


Spider Byte

by psychthriller



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Body Horror, Body Modification, Choking, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Dacryphilia, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Demon Sex, Demonic Possession, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Hair-pulling, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Holidays, Jee (Apex Legends), Jee - Freeform, Kinktober 2019, Licking, Light Bondage, Love Bites, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Monsterfucking, Monsters, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Neckz 'n' Throats, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Partial Mind Control, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Recreational Drug Use, Robot Feels, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-cest, Sex with Mirage | Elliott Witt's Decoys, Sexual Coercion, Shadowfall, Shadowverse - Freeform, Spider Byte, Teasing, Thighs, Titanfall Universe, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Valentine's Day, Vampire Bites, Vampire Crypto | Park Tae Joon, Vampire Sex, Vampire!Crypto got me fucked up y'all, Vinson Dynamics, thigh biting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 284,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychthriller/pseuds/psychthriller
Summary: "A-are you going to eat me?" It had felt like a reasonable question, at least before he'd said it out loud.Witt, you fucking idiot.Park laughed, a sound like thunder rumbling in the distance; slow and deep and beautiful but tinted with danger. His hand had stopped moving entirely, making Elliott almost wish he hadn't asked, as he bucked his hips in frustration. There was a rather pregnant pause, Elliott waiting impatiently for him to answer, holding his breath. Park sounded amused when he finally said,"No, but I'd drink you to the very last drop."Shit.Elliott shuddered as Park roughly grasped him, squeezing him teasingly through his pants again. Unsure if Park was joking, he clarified, "I-- I mean, are you going to hurt me?" He wasn't entirely sure what kind of answer he was hoping for.Another pause and then, much softer than before,"Only if you want me to."----------------------------Injured, alone, and scared out of his Wit(t)s, Elliott seeks cover in a dark cave during a Shadowfall match. What he doesn't know is that the monster within is far more dangerous than the ones he's trying to flee.





	1. Once Bitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanticallyinept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticallyinept/gifts).

> WARNING: Blood, violence, dubious consent, and lots of That Gay Shit lie ahead. YE BE WARNED. It's not particularly extreme, but if any of the above content offends you, you might wanna skip this one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a tense Shadowfall match, Elliott finds himself unarmed and face-to-face with a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following 8,000+ word pile of utter degeneracy is entirely inspired by a far more talented writer on here, @romanticallyinept. Go read her story, "don't care about winning" and the VERY hot sequel, "choking on my pride" for more delicious Cryptage filth. Srsly, do it.
> 
> Aaaand yeah, I definitely broke down and bought that fucking Deadly Byte skin after writing this. You can only write so many thousands of words about a hot vampire skin before you crack and have to get it. Dammit, Respawn.

"Hey, wh-what're you--Ah!"

Elliot yelped, taken by surprise as his shooting arm was twisted painfully towards his back, the legend behind him breathing something that sounded like "Trick's on you," before shoving him forward, chest and cheek suddenly connecting with the rough grit of the cave wall.

"_Jesus_, Park! Easy on the merchandise!" He hadn't even found a weapon yet.

He could feel a bruise forming on his cheekbone from the force of Park's hand on the back of his head, the hard length of his weapon -- _maybe an R-99?_ \-- pressed firmly against Elliot's back. His arm ached in Crypto's grasp, still sore from when the man had nearly broken it when Elliott had tried to clap him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture made with the intention of breaking the ice -- not breaking his bones.

_What is his problem?_ Elliott hadn't been touching him this time. Hell, he hadn't even _seen_ him in the darkness of the cave when he'd come slidding into it, trying to escape Renee and that vicious little knife she'd sliced his thigh open with only moments before.

Skidding to a halt in the corner of a large rock formation that was protruding through the cave floor, he doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping to catch his breath. He noticed his dreadlocked pirate wig had disappeared sometime during his altercation with Wraith -- which he'd barely survived -- but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset. His own, real hair was way better looking, anyway.

It had just occurred to him that he probably needed more than a level one backpack if he was going to survive. Frantically scanning the cave for a weapon - _any_ weapon - he felt a searing pain in his thigh that reminded him he needed meds, too. Just as he'd gone to step out of the little alcove he was using for cover, he found himself being seized from behind, arm twisted back, face shoved roughly into the wall. He could tell from the thick Korean accent, it was Crypto, the newest legend, and the one most clearly annoyed by Elliott's presence.

"We're supposed to be c-copper-, cooper-, uhhhh, working together!" Elliott gasped, breathless with shock from the unexpected collision with the wall.

He was right. There were ten legends left, and the deep, ominous voice of the mysterious announcer running the Shadowfall games had just instructed all remaining legends to stop fighting each other and start working their way to the evac zone, fighting their way through the Shadows together, as a team. What was Park _doing?_

"You're wounded," Park growled, hot breath buffeting the back of Elliot's neck. The hand on his skull released it in favor of dragging a pair of cool fingers though the blood coating the famous legend's outer thigh -- the untreated wound from tangling with Wraith's kunai knife only moments before entering the cave. "Let me help you," the hacker purred deviously, gathering the sticky warmth on his fingers, the synthetic skin of his fingertips staining red as he gently swiped them through the wound a second time, gathering more. Elliott flinched.

"_Ow_, fuck! Dude, what're you--" he was abruptly cut off by a soft sucking sound, realizing with horror that what he was hearing had to be the man behind him licking Elliott's own blood from his fingers. _What the fuck?_

Park groaned low in his throat at the coppery taste. "You should be careful, _sehsang un humhan goshiya_. . ." he purred darkly, hot breath against Elliott's ear.

_Huh?_ Mirage's mind was racing, reeling, heart pounding in his ears as he struggled against the other man's vice-like grip. _Fuck_, _he's strong._ Some distant part of Elliot's mind became vaguely aware of the fact that, because both of the man's hands were occupied -- one still pinning Elliott's wrist with a supernatural strength, the other sliding bloody fingers between plush lips and into a fanged mouth -- it _couldn't_ be an R-99 (or any other weapon, he realized) that was pressing into his back. _Oh._

_**Oh**._

"You smell so good," his captor groaned, sucking the last of his blood from those mechanically-altered fingertips before nosing against Elliot's throat. "You taste even better."

Adrenaline pounded through his veins. Elliot could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment at the man's words, struck truly speechless for what was perhaps the first time in his entire life. He willed some bloodflow to return to his brain, breathing deep. He didn't know the newest legend well at all -- the guy wasn't overly-friendly, to say the very least. At least, not normally. If the kid wasn't trying to break Elliott's arm, he was trying to pretend Elliott didn't exist. _What is he doing?_ Elliott's thoughts were racing alongside his pulse, mind spiraling. _What is-- how-- **why** is he doing this?_ He struggled to form a coherent sentence, even in his head.

"I-- I thought-- it's just a c-costume--" he breathed weakly, trying to convince himself it was the truth.

Park chuckled darkly behind him.

"Do not trust what you think you know," he murmured, slipping his free hand around Elliott's throat. "We all wear costumes to hide who we are."

The strange sensation of the sensors in Park's fingertips made Elliot gasp at the gentle pressure when they wrapped around his throat, his skin chilling at the man's -- _the creature's_ \-- touch.

"I can feel your heartbeat, smell your fear. . .your desire. I can _taste_ it. . ." Park hissed behind him, inhaling deeply and rolling his hips forward. "It's intoxicating."

_Christ_. Elliott bit off a moan, squirming and feeling very much like an insect trapped in a spider's web as Park's hands started to roam. It took every ounce of his already-limited self control not to push back against the hard length rutting against his ass, though there was a very small part of him that was rather afraid to pursue that particular death wish at the moment, lest he become the creature's next meal. There was an even smaller part of him that still had a tiny shred of pride and dignity left, sort of, and it wasn't about to submit to Park without a fight.

At least until one of Park's hands was slipping under the hem of the shirt of Elliott's pirate costume, icy fingers brushing across his abdomen and leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then suddenly he couldn't think of a good enough reason _not_ to grind his hips back against the monster's stiffening length. Elliott took a shaky breath, feeling like some invisible force had sucked all the oxygen from his lungs, and taken with it his ability to think about anything but _more, please_.

Park's hands are cold, yet somehow Elliot still finds that he's overheating faster than an L-Star that has fired off a few too many rounds, feeling like he's a melting pile of magma, like Park is a statue carved from ice, and steam should be erupting from every point where their skin makes contact.

"Come on, _old man_," Park breathes, lips ghosting along the shell of Elliot's ear and making him fucking ache to give in, to say yes, to fucking _beg_ for it. "I see the way you look at me. Don't pretend you don't want it. I've been watching you, too."

Elliott is so hard it hurts, and Park's words only make the throbbing worse, Elliott's hips thrusting forward involuntarily, longing for some friction, some pressure, _anything_\--

And then Park's mouth is on his throat, surprisingly warm compared to the rest of him, tongue painting a hot, wet stripe down the side of his neck before leaning down to suck a dark bruise near the place where it met his collarbones. Even with those razor-sharp fangs dragging over his skin, only millimeters from his jugular, Elliot can't help it -- he can't keep himself from letting loose a ragged, desperate moan and pressing his hips back against Park's, grinding against his arousal. "F-fuck, _nghhh_..."

"Tell me you want it." It's not an order, but Park's voice is like honey, low and tempting and hoarse with desire, like he _needs_ to hear it, needs to hear Elliott say it.

That voice is impossible to resist, and its words make Elliot shudder. The devious hand under his shirt has drifted down between his thighs now, squeezing him through his pants and wrenching a pathetic noise out of him that makes Park chuckle dangerously, his other hand coming up to gently grip Elliott's throat again. The strangely delicious feeling of synthetic skin, frigid human(_?_) flesh, and smooth, metallic cybernetics clasped around his throat had him thrusting shamelessly against Park's palm, wishing there weren't layers of fabric keeping him from feeling the same sensation on his cock, which was throbbing in Park's hand. Park hummed approvingly when Elliot made a weak little noise in the back of his throat, hips jerking as the man continued rubbing him through the pants of his pirate costume, which had grown painfully tight.

He couldn't help the moaning now. "Fuck, oh _fuck_, I--" shuddering in Park's grasp, he could feel the pre-cum leaking from his cock and felt his cheeks burn with shame, knowing Park could undoubtedly feel it soaking through his pants, too. "_Agh,_ Crypto, god--_fuck!_"

"_Shhh_," Park hushed him, still pawing at his bulge, teasing cruelly. "Be good. Just say the words, tell me what you want."

_What I want,_ Elliott thought in desperation, _is to be bent over the nearest rock formation and fucked into the next dimension_, though somehow, voicing that thought didn't seem like a particularly good idea -- in part because what Elliott _also_ wanted was to _be good_. Elliott wanted very, _very_ badly to "be good," which he assumed meant telling Park what he wanted to hear. Elliot wanted to say it, but for some reason, the words stuck in his throat. Still, he ground against Park's palm, unable to help himself.

And then, before he could stop himself, he was asking the dumbest question, maybe ever:

"A-are you going to eat me?" It had felt like a reasonable question, at least before he'd said it out loud. _Witt, you fucking idiot._

Park laughed, a sound like thunder rumbling in the distance -- slow and deep and beautiful but tinted with danger; his hand stopped moving entirely, making Elliott almost wish he hadn't asked, as he bucked his hips in frustration. There was a rather pregnant pause, Elliott waiting impatiently for him to answer, holding his breath. Park sounded rather amused when he finally said,

"No, but I'd drink you to the very last drop."

_Shit_. Elliott shuddered as Park roughly grasped him, squeezing him teasingly through his pants again. Unsure if Park was joking, he clarified, "I--I mean, are you going to hurt me?" He wasn't entirely sure what kind of answer he was hoping for.

Another pause and then, much softer than before,

"Only if you want me to."

_Well fuck_, he damn sure hadn't been expecting that. Elliott's cock twitched at the man's words, desperate for more attention. _Never expected this 'Crypto' guy to be such a kinky fucker_.

They're both breathing heavy now, and that wicked mouth detaches from his throat long enough for Park to pull back and rip Elliott's shirt open, tearing it apart at the neck to give his hungry mouth more access to Elliott's tanned, warm skin. Elliott makes a small sound of surprise as Park bares his skin to the chilled air, pumping him harder and grazing the newly-exposed, freckled shoulder with the edge of those deadly-sharp teeth, sounding damn near desperate when he speaks again,

"Tell me what you need," he rasps, grinding his own hard length against the curve of Elliott's ass. "Let me give it to you. I need to hear the words, Witt."

Elliott's refusal -- well, _inability,_ really -- to answer had Park tightening his grip around the famous legend's neck, pulling his other hand away from between Elliott's legs and pushing his prey harder against the wall. The loss of contact was Elliot's undoing.

"Fuck, alright! I want you, _please_, don't stop, I--" he took a gasping breath, struggling to think straight, only able to focus on the loss of sweet friction and his desperate need for more, immediately. "I _need_ you to touch me. Fuck, I need it so bad, please, god, I--_ah--!_"

Mirage yelped as he was pulled back and away from the wall of the cave, the cool air chilling the skin of his right cheek, alerting him to the fact that he was now bleeding where it had scraped against the wall. He wasn't exactly sure when his pants had been unbuttoned and unzipped, but they slid easily when Park yanked the front of them -- and Elliott's designer underwear -- down to rest at his thighs, freeing his drooling, needy cock to the cool air of the cave and making Elliott shuddet.

He gasped when Park gripped his cock, wrapping those icy fingers around his hot skin, dragging his thumb over the head, smearing a bead of precum over it and making Elliott moan so loudly it was a miracle that a horde of Shadows didn't immediately appear to murder them both. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, but he was starting to see why Octane was such an adrenaline junkie. _Forget wingsuiting_, he thought, _Impromptu mid-game handjobs are where it's fucking at!_

Park let go of him momentarily, lifting his hand to Elliott's mouth. "Spit."

Elliott flushed again at the lewd request, but still he eagerly did as he was told -- and was grateful he had, moments later when Park slid that slick, wicked, half-human hand around his cock again and oh, _god_, it was so fucking good, _Park_ was so fucking good that Elliott nearly came right then and there.

Park's breath was puffing against his ear as he groaned something in Korean. Elliot couldn't understand his words, but they sent a thrill coursing through him anyway. He bit his lip, trying not to sound _quite_ so fucking pathetic, but failing utterly the instant Park squeezed his throat a little harder and began pumping his length again with languid, teasing strokes.

"_Ngh_, please," Elliot groaned when the other man's iron grip let up on his throat just long enough to allow him a few lungfuls of precious air. "P-please, make me cum, I need it, y-you're killing me here, sweet mother of-- _ffffuck_\-- !" the famous legend gasped. 

Park had begun rutting against Elliott's ass through his pants again, timing it with the rhythm of his hand and leaving the Elliott a whining, begging mess with each successive thrust.

"_Hnnnngfuck..._p-please, kid, please don't stop, just lemme---_agh,_shit, I-- _ffffffucking-FUCK--!_" Park was going to be the death of him.

"Such a dirty mouth," the man behind him purred darkly, lips brushing against Elliott's exposed shoulder with each word, "maybe next time we can put it to good use, cleaning things up. . ."

Elliott's cock throbbed as he shuddered, a warm blush spreading across his face at Crypto's words. He was beginning to shake with the effort of holding on to his composure. He couldn't even remember the last time a lover had pulled such desperate noises out of him. Hell, both of the legends were essentially still fully clothed, and yet here was the famous Mirage, ready to drop to his knees and beg shamelessly to be fucked. The great Mirage, nearly cumming in his pants before their skin had even touched, falling apart at the mere _words_ of this newest, no-name legend. Elliott would have been embarrassed, if all of the blood in his brain hadn't rushed southward the moment he heard that velveteen voice whispering wickedness into his ear.

"God, please, anything you want. . .anything, _please!_" Mirage moaned, no longer even trying to conceal the desperate tone of his voice, the way his hips thrust forward to meet every delicious stroke of Crypto's fist around his aching cock. "Anything you want, just let me--let me--"

"_Anything?_" Park slows his movements, laughing rather cruelly at the way Elliott whines when he does.

"_Yes,_ god, anything you want! Just let me cum, please--I--_ah_..."

"I want to taste you." Park's voice is strained, almost as though the very thought caused him physical pain, muffling a needy moan in the crook of Elliott's neck as his cock pulses against him.

"So fucking _do it_, then." Elliott groans in frustration, his mind far too clouded with desire to consider the implications of his flippant words in their current context, only able to focus on the tempting mental image of those soft lips wrapped around him, his cock buried in the velvet embrace of Park's throat, fangs be damned.

Park growls, squeezing around Elliott's neck -- and his throbbing cock -- and quickly resuming a frantic pace, relishing the pathetic cry Witt gifts him in return. Elliott is completely lost in pleasure, hips weakly thrusting forward into Park's slick palm and backwards against the hard outline of his cock, still trapped in his black trousers and throbbing with a desperate need of its own.

Elliott leans his head back on the man's shoulder, eyes rolling back into his head, lips parted, throat exposed to his lover's greedy mouth as it licks along his pulse point. He's close.

"Shit, fuck, g-gonna cum," he stutters, throbbing in Park's slickened grip.

"_Mmmm_," is all Park says before releasing Elliot's throat in favor of fisting a handful of his perfect hair and sinking both ivory fangs into the thick vein pulsing in the side of his neck, Park's mouth warm and soft and too good to resist leaning into, even through the pain.

Elliott cries out when the pointed tips pierce his skin, the sharp agony in his throat mixing deliciously with the pleasure pooling in his belly as the monster pulls him close, moaning at the sweet taste of him, soothing the twin puncture wounds with gentle swipes of its warm tongue, and greedily swallowing every drop of blood that passes its lips. Elliott can feel his pulse hammering against Park's warm lips and throbbing in his cock so hard it only takes a few more strokes of Park's clever hand before he's falling over the edge, cock twitching in Park's wicked grasp, cumming all over his pants, his stomach, Park's slender fingers, and painting the floor of the cave with another pathetic sob. Park follows him soon after, finally wrenching his mouth from Elliott's abused throat and cursing as he cums, hard, spilling in his pants and continuing to stroke Elliott until he squirms with overstimulation, whimpering and twisting in the vampire's arms, growing slightly dizzy from the sudden loss of blood.

In the afterglow, Elliott is vaguely aware of the distant thought that next time, he needs to be able to see him, be able to see that gorgeous face when it happens, to watch those far-too-blue eyes roll back when Elliott makes him cum, makes him _beg,_ because that is _abso-fucking-lutely_ what Mirage plans to do to him back on the dropship, once they've both recovered from the, uh, current match.

After a moment, the beast seemed to have caught its breath, and released its hold on Elliott, perhaps trusting him to stand on his own a little too quickly. Elliott staggered forward, reaching out to catch himself and lean against the wall of the cave for support as he gasped for breath. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the deep, haunting voice of the announcer interrupted him, declaring the Shadows had won.

"Damn, guess we missed the evac ship," he sighed. _Christ_, he thought, _I didn't even hear it land_.

"Jesus, Park," he said for the second time that night, finally getting a good look at the stunning man behind him, perfect hair all mussed and mouth dripping with gore, seemingly unable to form words. Those unnaturally-blue eyes darting between Elliott's face, his throat, and his dripping cock. The costume only accentuates all the prettiest bits of the legend he knows from the arena, but Crypto still seems. . ._different_ tonight, somehow. Like part of him is something else. Something _fucking dangerous._

For a brief moment, Elliott considers kissing him. Would the fangs hurt? Would he even care if they did? The Crypto he knows would probably break his nose just for thinking about it. . .but then again, the Crypto he knows isn't prone to accosting people with surprise cave handjobs in the middle of tense solo matches.

_Alright, Witt. Get it together. This isn't your first rodeo. Initiate pillow talk._

"That was. . .that was. . .fucking _hot,_" he pauses, still partially lost for words, before adding, "Hey, maybe next time I can be the one sucking _you_ dry," he forces a laugh. "Geddit? 'Cause you're a. . .nevermind," he sighed, took a breath, tried again. "Look, I'm not--" he turned to look at Park.

But Park _wasn't there_.

He was gone. 

Just like that. _Poof._ Gone.

Elliott had no room to judge. He'd pulled the exact same move on countless overly-needy lovers, the ones he didn't plan on seeing again, who sometimes struggled to take a hint. Ghosting someone wasn't a crime. But still, Elliott hadn't often been on the receiving end of the behavior -- always the ghost, never the ghostee -- and the rejection stung more than he wanted to admit.

There was a distinct flapping of wings near his head. _Arthur?_ He whipped around, eyes darting back and forth across the cave. Nothing. Empty. No traces of the bird -- nor the man who, only moments ago, had him biting his own lips bloody trying not to moan -- were present in the cave, or anywhere else.

He sighed again, dropping his shoulders in disappointment as he trudged through the dark, muddy cave. _Guess Crypto's the love-'em-and-leave-'em type. Pfft, typical. Men_. He rubbed his eyes. _Time to get back to the drop ship._

Making his way out of the cave's mouth and into the moonlight blanketing King's Canyon, he stopped at the entrance to pull out his phone and send his coordinates to the pick-up shuttle.

Shuttle en route, it was time to trek to the nearest respawn beacon to wait for pickup. Before heading onward, Mirage turned to take a final look at the cave, already knowing he wouldn't find what he was looking for. He could only make out the reflective eyes and dark silhouette of a large brown bat, peering curiously at him from the darkness, perched upside down on the jagged ceiling of the cave.

_OK, time to get going. Well, almost._ First, he needed to take a quick dip in the nearest stream. Going back to the ship after being completely M.I.A. for the last half of the match was enough humiliation, he damn sure wasn't coming back with cum all over his pants.

Dropping to his knees with a running start, he slid through the water separating the houses next to the bunker, washing away the evidence of the night's activities -- from his body, if not his mind.

Shivering from the slight breeze, Elliot turned his gaze to the stars, scanning the night sky for the pickup shuttle.

\-------------------------

"It seems Mr. Witt has finally deemed us worthy of his _glorious_ presence after all," Caustic spat in Elliott's direction as the latter dragged himself through the airlock, leaving a trail of muddy, bloody footprints in his wake.

"Dude, seriously?" he snapped, gesturing towards his soaking, utterly wrecked pirate costume. "It's been kind of a rough night, okay? Can Shit-on-Elliott Day be tomorrow, please?" The intimidating scientist regarded him with a sneer, but didn't reply, so Elliott added, "You're right though, my presence _is_ pretty freakin' glorious, innit?" Nox rolled his eyes.

Elliott had barely taken a single step forward before Anita was up in his face, full-on drill-sergeant mode engaged, her own face still painted like a sugar skull from her Dia de Muertos costume.

"What was that out there, soldier?!" she seethed, inches from his face. A few petals shook loose from the flowers arranged in her hair. "You fallin' asleep on the job cost us the match! We're supposed to be a _team_ out there, Witt!"

He winced. _Tell that to the guy trying to fuck me during match, then!_ Elliot thought bitterly, though he didn't say it. Park hadn't returned from the match yet so he wasn't around to hear it, anyway. Before Elliot could come up with a good excuse, Lifeline interrupted.

"Ey, both of ya cut it out. Lemme take a look atcha, Witt." She motioned for him to come over.

Grateful for an excuse to escape Anita's wrath, he stepped around her and headed for Ajay.

"I think you'll survive," she said with a wink after looking him over, "but that cheek looks nasty. Might wanna put somethin' on that." Her inquisitive gaze was making him nervous.

Ajay was a good medic, and she never missed _any_ details. "That your blood?" she asked, pointing to the enormous crimson stain extending down his chest from his right shoulder, where his shirt was torn, all the way down to where the gash on his thigh from the kunai had been. He shrugged, avoiding Ajay's analytic gaze.

"Let me guess," she cracked a smile, "I should 'see the other guy,' right?"

_Yeah,_ Elliott thought bitterly, _You really should._

"I'm gonna shower," he said, feeling angry for reasons he couldn't quite explain. 

And with a wave of his hand, he disappeared into the flawless camouflage of his holo-tech.

\----------------------

Out of the shower and back in the common area, Elliott was still in a dour mood. Restless. His head felt too light, like it might start floating off into the distance at any moment. The rest of him, though, felt far too heavy, like someone had turned up the gravity on the ship, putting extra weight on his tired limbs. He dragged himself over to the corner of the living area, dropping into a seat with a dramatic huff and propping his feet up on the metallic coffee table. He pretended to scroll through his phone, but in reality, he was scanning the room for Park every few minutes. Discreetly, he hoped.

His head was pounding with a deep, throbbing ache, neck stiff and sore, and he felt like he'd been slammed into and utterly flattened, like the runaway train on World's Edge had run him over and ground him to dust against the tracks.

Eventually the airlock hissed open and Park finally strolled through, no worse for wear, sporting his signature grumpy, smug expression -- a look Wraith had once aptly referred to as "_Resting Dick-Face_."

More interesting was what he _wasn't_ wearing: the costume. _How the hell did he get out of it so fast?_ Elliot had barely had time to dry off from the shower. Park's costume -- it couldn't be easy to remove. Pale, purple-ish makeup that covered every last inch of exposed skin, piercing blue contact lenses that made his eyes glow almost like Wraith's, black synthetic skin painted leathery brown with a golden sheen...not to mention the elaborate outfit and the very, VERY convincing prosthetic fangs. Elliot took a deep breath.

"Hey, Crypto," he waved him over. The little drone that was never far from Park's side made a cheerful whirring sound, drifting over to to orbit Elliot's head. _God, that thing is worse than the bird_, Elliott thought, resisting the urge to swat it out of his personal space.

The drone's owner had finally sulked over, and was eyeing Elliot expectantly.

"What do you want?" Park asked, folding his arms and glaring at something slightly behind Elliott's head, obviously trying not to look too interested in the answer.

"Where's uhhh, wh-where's that cool costume you had on a few minutes ago?" Elliott stuttered, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

Park stared back at him blankly, eyebrow slightly raised. Perhaps he was just shy and didn't wish to engage with Elliott in front of others? Why else would he just... disappear like that, especially right after..._god_, after what had happened in that cave...

Park was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "What costume?"

Elliott rolled his eyes. _Seriously, dude?_ "Very funny. For real though, where'd you get those crazy contact lenses? Those were, uh, something else."

Park narrowed his eyes, beginning to grow annoyed.

"Whatever game you're playing right now, I don't have time for it. I've had enough games for one day, old man," he grumbled irritably, before collapsing into a nearby chair and closing his eyes, clearly exhausted from the match. He genuinely seemed to mean it, too, but Elliott's heart still skipped a few beats at the sound of Park's insulting nickname for him. If the Crypto in that costume wasn't the same person he was looking at now, why did the one in the costume know that _stupid nickname?_

He studied Park's face, feeling -- as ever -- like a complete idiot. Parts of Tae Joon's white and green jacket were streaked with mud and bloodstains. He'd definitely just gotten out of a game, and he had obviously played in that outfit. _So how...?_

Elliott froze, remembering the sound of wings echoing through the cave. _The bat._

_No, it couldn't be._

_...could it?_

"What'sa matter, Witt? Ya get spooked by a Shadow?" Ajay teased, plopping onto the sofa next to him and playfully punching his shoulder. On his other side, he heard Renee giggle softly.

Anita poked her head back into the room.

"Yeah, Mr. Tough Guy here didn't even make it off the island. We had to come back for him after the match," she snickered. "That was some real FNG shit back there, Witt. That eyepatch ain't helping your aim, either. Or your ability to dodge punches." She gestured to the ghost of the purple bruise under his right eye, which had started healing the moment he entered the ship. 

Elliott swallowed, the memory of how he'd received it making his ears feel uncomfortably hot.

"Yeah yeah, get your laughs in while you can, Bang. Pretty sure we all heard you scream like a little girl when you opened that loot box with the spider in it." he snapped angrily, ignoring Anita when she raised both hands and defensively exclaimed, "Listen, that thing was fucking _huge!_"

Renee let out a good-natured laugh, elbowing him in the ribs. "C'mon, relax, we're just teasing. You _do_ look like you saw a ghost down there, though."

"Y-yeah," Elliot muttered, rubbing his side. "A ghost."

"Oh come on, it was just your eyes playing tricks on you! You of all people should know that, Elliot." she chided.

There was a lull in the conversation, a day's worth of exhaustion beginning to set in for all of them. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, filled only by the steady, pulsing hum of the dropship, which left each of the legends to ponder their own silent thoughts.

_Maybe...maybe she was right?_ Maybe he'd imagined it, or it was a trick of the light. It was that time of year after all, and those Shadowfall games got fucking spooky sometimes. That's all it was, surely. An illusion.

_Illusions don't sneak up on you in caves and try to fuck you, idiot,_ said a voice in his mind. He shook his head, as if attempting to shake the offending thought itself loose from his brain.

The voice was right, though. If Elliot was an expert on one thing, it was the art of making someone think they'd seen something they hadn't. Whatever had happened in that cave, it wasn't some cheap magic trick.

He eventually came to a reasonable, plausible conclusion: assuming it wasn't some highly-elaborate, incredibly-evil prank orchestrated by one of his fellow legends, it had to be either a dream or a hallucination. That was really all there was to it.

It had been a long day, a long week -- a long month, really. October meant Halloween, Halloween meant costumes, and costumes meant an early call time and several extra hours in the makeup chair before each match. Several days of this, coupled with the mental stress of playing alone -- Elliot's least favorite way to play, if he was being honest -- and scrambling around King's Canyon in the dark, being hunted by other legends and Shadows alike, wearing that stupid eyepatch . . .it was the perfect setting for ones eyes to play tricks. There was always something spooky afoot, some creepy Shadow moving in the corner of his eye or a goddamned zombie flying out of a lootbox when he least expected it or Renee popping out of the Void and chasing him down in that godforsaken Night Terror costume she was so fond of lately. It was enough to flay even the most stoic legend's nerves, make anyone's eyes play tricks on them.

It hadn't been only his eyes getting tricked, though. It had been his entire _body_. . .

Perhaps he'd somehow knocked a rock loose from the ceiling of the cave, or hit his head on the wall when he'd skidded into it, desperate for cover, after tangling with Renee's kunai blade. 

_Yeah_, he thought, _the wall_._ I must've hit my head, which caused the bruise. I got knocked out, and then had an unbelievably explicit, highly-detailed, very realistic-feeling wet dream about a team mate. Totally normal, NBD._ He nodded to himself, rather unconvincingly.

Yes, surely he'd slept through the match, and then come to on the floor of the cave, waking up to the announcer's booming voice, with that stupid bat looking down at him all judgementally. _Yeah, totally._ _That's what happened._ Just his imagination. It explained the blood, the bruise, the whole _nearly-getting-fucked-by-a-god-damned-vampire_ thing, all of it.

"Good enough for me," he muttered aloud to nobody in particular, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

_It's better than the alternative, at least, which is that I'm losing my fucking mind_, he thought desperately. It was a definite possibility.

His thoughts were interrupted when Renee suddenly grabbed his chin, tilting his face to the side and studying him intently.

"Uh, _hi_, can I help you. . ?" he started, trying to pull away.

"Jeez, Elliot," she murmured, her haunting blue eyes scanning his expression and looking so similar to the eyes of The Thing in The Cave that he couldn't help but shiver a little when he met her icy gaze. "What the fuck happened to your neck?!"

He turned his head sharply, shrugging out of her grasp.

"S'nothing. One of those fucking lootcrate spiders bit me is all," he lied effortlessly. "No big deal."

"Those things _bite?_" Renee looked horrified.

"_Yeah_," Elliot snapped back, a little too defensively, "they do." He tugged the fabric of his yellow hoodie so it concealed the wounds, which were far too precise and far too close together for him to deny they were the work of _some_ fanged creature. "Look, don't tell Ajay. You know how she is, she'll flip her lid and imprison me in medbay all day tomorrow while she runs a million unnecessary tests and gets all my devoted fans upset that their favorite legend is, like, dying or whatever. Come on, I _really _ don't wanna miss the games tomorrow. I'll be _fine_, I've had all my shots, I swear! _Pleeeeease?_" he shot her his best pouting look, puppydog eyes and all.

Renee's face remained skeptical but whatever those voices in her head had told her, they must not have tattled on him, because she didn't press him further.

"Alright, whatever you say, Witt. But if you like, swell up or keel over from anaphylactic shock in the ring tomorrow, I'm totally ratting you out." She smiled that pretty, unknowable smile, and looked back down at the ebook she'd been reading, absentmindedly twirling the kunai blade in her right hand. Elliott smiled back until the second she looked away.

_Fuck_, he thought, fingers ghosting over the forgotten wound at his throat, which was already swollen, tender, and hot to the touch. His heart was starting to pound again.

How was it even _there_?! Most superficial skin injuries were automatically healed between matches by the dermal regenerator that was a part of the automated medical check-up each legend recieved when they re-entered the drop ship between matches. The airlock wouldn't even open if an abnormality was detected, instead transporting the sick/injured legend directly to Ajay's medical bay and maintaining quarantine protocol. How the fuck had the ship's A.I. even let him through decontamination with a purpling, sickly-grey bite from an unknown organism right on his damn throat?! The bruised scrape under his eye had started healing itself the moment he entered the dropship, the gash in his thigh from Renee's blade already healed over into smooth scar tissue before he'd even peeled off the ruined pirate costume. How was the bite _still_ there? How was it getting _worse?_

Elliott was sure of one thing, now: It wasn't a dream, that was for damn sure.

_Dreams don't leave permanent bitemarks_, he groaned internally.

Really, there was only one thing to do if he wanted answers. He winced at the very thought, massaging the two puffy, painful welts on his throat and instantly regretting it when the wound began to throb painfully in response.

He _had_ to get back to that cave.

  
\-------------------

_FIN_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, I think I just wrote myself into a corner with no way to escape except via more hot vampire sex. Guess we doin' a sequel, y'all. Feel free to leave depraved feedback in the comments.
> 
> Writing Mirage's POV is essentially effortless for me because he basically IS me-as-a-dude, so his way of speaking is easy to emulate when I'm writing dialogue. Crypto, though, is far more difficult. He speaks far less often (and far less flamboyantly) than our boi Elliott, plus I'm just not used to the way he speaks yet, so I have to go through every line of his dialogue and read it back to myself to see if it fits his accent, speaking cadence, word choices, etc. Don't even get me started on the Korean lines, lol.
> 
> That said, I do wanna do a chapter from his perspective. I definitely will, eventually, regardless. But let me know what you prefer for part 2-- do you guys want Elliott's POV again or Crypto's? Or should I do like in my other fic, "Don't Be an Idiot" where the first half is from another character's POV (Wraith) and then halfway through it switches to Crypto's POV. I dunno, so please leave your thoughts in the comments! I really appreciate all the feedback so far! 💜


	2. Twice Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jesus, kid, you scared the fuck out of me." 
> 
> Park narrowed his eyes. "Sorry about that, old man."
> 
> Before Elliott could complain that he was actually the younger of the two men, Park continued, "Sorry about this, too."
> 
> Then he fired three rounds into Elliott's chest. 
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Looking for answers in the cave, Elliott gets more than he bargained for. Park bites off more than he can chew during a Shadowfall match. Wraith sets her plan into motion. 
> 
> This reads like a terrible summary for a TV show, I'm so sorry lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threw in some tricks (and a particularly delicious treat) for y'all, Happy Halloween! Stay safe and watch out for those Shadows, they'll fuck you up.
> 
> (P.S. I have no idea if the drone is really named Jee, but somebody said it was and it's stuck in my head ever since, so that's what I'm calling it until informed otherwise, because that name is adorbs.)

The second Elliott's feet hit the ground, he's running. Sprinting, really. There's only so much time in each match, and though he's not eager to face an angry Bangalore again, he's willing to risk it, if it means getting answers.

He's wearing his Ghost Machine suit, the white and grey armor much more challenging to shred than that stupid pirate costume, though perhaps not the best camouflage in the darkness currently blanketing King's Canyon. The moonlight reflecting off the suit only makes him an easier target, and he's eager to reach the cover of the cave.

Crouching around a corner near its entrance, he sends a decoy running into the darkness. When it disappears into thin air without incident a few moments later, he steps inside.

The cave is large, but as he enters the main chamber, he can see it's empty -- no sign of anyone, not even a bat. Elliott sighs, feeling stupid. He decides it's probably best to arm himself before he goes further, if he wants to avoid a repeat of last time. He rubs his throat, shuddering at the memory.

Elliott feels like hell. He looks it, too. Nothing has felt right since that night. He's exhausted but can't stay asleep at night, starving but food isn't filling -- even his beloved pork chops haven't seemed appealing for days now. And people are starting to notice. He can hide the circles under his eyes with a little concealer, tug a scarf or high collar over that throbbing wound at his throat, but he can't hide from Wraith's inquisitive gaze when he turns down the pork chops Pathfinder made for dinner. People are  _ definitely _ starting to notice.

He's relieved to find a Wingman waiting for him within one of the cave's numerous orange loot crates.  _ Alright, time to get some answers _ .

"Oi, get out here, you big bloodsucker. I know you're in here!" he yells to no one, voice bouncing off the cavernous walls.

Silence.

He peers around another corner, the one he'd been shoved into by that...that  _ thing.  _ The blood from his cheek was still smeared along the wall, and though he hated admitting it, the memory made his dick throb.

** _Back for more?_ ** boomed a voice in his head --  _ definitely _ not his own. Elliott jumped so violently at the sound that he tripped over his own two feet, landing hard on his rear. The voice chuckled.

"Who said that?" Elliott scrambled to his feet again, whipping around and aiming the gun at even the slightest sound. "Where are you?" He backed away from the spot where he'd been shoved against the wall. "Hey! I said show yourself!" He hoped he sounded threatening, but he doubted it.

Before he could get an answer, he backed into something soft, something _alive._

_"Auuuugh!_ Fuck!" Elliott all but screamed, shoving whatever it was away from him as hard as he could. Looking up, he could make out a familiar silhouette. _Shit._

"Talking to yourself, old man?" It was Park. The real one, he realized, only slightly relieved. The man had a P2020 aimed right at Elliott's chest. Undoubtedly loaded with hammerpoints, if Elliott had to guess. He swallowed thickly.

"Jesus, kid, you scared the fuck out of me." 

Park narrowed his eyes. "Sorry about that, old man."

Before Elliott could complain that he was actually the _younger_ of the two men, Park continued, "Sorry about this, too."

Then he fired three rounds into Elliott's chest. 

\---------------

Park's distracted, digging through the trickster's deathbox, admiring the legendary Wingman skin on Elliott's gun. By the time Park hears it coming, it's too late. The Shadow bashes into him, sending him flying backwards onto the cave floor, Wingman skittering out of his grasp. He's wounded, shields broken, a hair's breadth away from being downed. Flipping over onto his stomach, he crawls toward the Wingman, but something hot wraps around his ankle and yanks him back away from the gun with terrifying strength. He instinctively reaches for Jee, but it's still in sleep mode, the EMP drone charging in its holster on his back.  _ Damn it! _

Turning around, he sets eyes on his attacker for the first time. It crouches over him, a blackish, ectoplasmic smoke pouring from every glowing crack in its blackened skin, like a being borne of molten magma and dark magic.

Trapped under its weight, he winces, waits for the final blow. But it never comes. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is met by a pair of glowing orbs that cannot be human.

And yet, its shape is familiar. 

_ Very _ familiar.

A slight breeze alerts him to the fact that his chest is bleeding, no doubt from the impact of the Shadow's claws when it knocked him to the ground.

The Shadow must notice, too, because it leans its inky face down to his chest, and he swears he hears it inhale. He shivers. Is--is it  _ smelling _ him?

Before he can ponder the answer to that question, the creature shreds the front of his shirt, vest and all. Bleeding planes of his torso now exposed, he hisses at the pain when it slides its dark, warm palms up his wounded chest, kneeing his thighs apart and pressing its hips against him. He shudders when he feels the beast's hard length press against him, realizing with horror that he's straining against his own pants now, too.

The creature's hands don't burn him, but they're unnaturally warm. Every inch of its skin is hot to the touch, Tae Joon can feel its heat through the remains of his tattered clothes. When the creature's hands go to the front of his pants, he fears the metal zipper may melt as it's pulled down.

He gasps, back arching, when a searing hand wraps tightly around his cock, squeezing firmly and giving it a few experimental strokes that make him shudder. Taking advantage of his exposed throat, the creature bends forward, dragging a hot tongue up his stomach, through the blood on his chest, and over his clavicle, and he can feel the monster's cock stiffening further at the taste of him.

Why wasn't it killing him? Why wasn't it downing him, leaving him to bleed out on the floor of the cave, at the very least? Why wasn't it bashing his fucking face in with that fearsome brute strength?

And why wasn't he _fighting it?_

The answers to those questions suddenly didn't matter when the Shadow dragged its tongue back down the hacker's bloody chest and over his stomach before wrapping a pair of smoky lips around his cock, enveloping it in the tight, almost-unbearable heat of its throat.

_"Fuck!"_ he cried, unable to stop himself from reflexively thrusting up into the Shadow's throat. The heat, the _pressure_ was all-consuming, addictive, too much, and a part of him -- a mad part -- fucking loved it. Wanted _more._

As if hearing his thoughts, one dark, ghostly hand crept back up his chest to close tightly around his throat, constricting his airflow and tearing a strangled moan from his chest as the Shadow-legend took him deeper into its throat.

His mind screamed  _ do something! _ but his limbs stayed frozen, lying motionless on the ground. His hands were free, he could shove the beast away -- or try to, anyway -- and make a break for that Wingman, or bash the Shadow in the face with his drone. Could do something,  _ anything _ besides lying there moaning while the demon deep-throated his cock.

But he didn't.

Instead, he buried his fingers in the demon's evanescent hair, hips thrusting up into its mouth, and started fucking its impossibly-warm throat with stuttering, needy thrusts. 

He was so close now, he couldn't think about the shame burning him, it was nothing compared to the searing lust coursing through his veins; the desire to cum on that hot tongue -- to spill down that tight, pulsing throat -- was impossible to ignore.

"Please," he gasped out, _"Jebal,_ oh god..." 

The creature hummed, lips pressed flush against Park's slender hips, firm grip burning around the synthetic skin of his throat, making his rhythm grow sloppy. He looked down into the glowing yellow gaze of the monster on top of him, moonlight from outside the cave making the creature's silhouette more defined. Crypto groaned as it swirled that scorching tongue over the head of his cock, and all coherent thought disappeared from his brain.

_ So close, so close, so fucking close… _

Suddenly, it dawned on him. This wasn't just any Shadow, it was the trickster's Shadow.

_Witt's_ Shadow. 

And then he was cumming, _hard,_ cock spasming as he spilled down the creature's hot throat, cursing in his native tongue. The Shadow moaned around him, swallowing down every drop.

He was still shuddering beneath it, gasping for air, shaking with aftershocks, and peering up into those too-bright eyes when the booming voice of the Shadowfall gamesmaster echoed through the canyon, announcing that the legends had won. A few of them had evidently managed to escape in the evac ship. Not all of them, though, _clearly._

As the last of the winning legends' names were read over the loudspeaker, the Shadow above Park simply evaporated into thin air. The visual effect was so uncannily similar to the real Witt disappearing into his holo-gear camouflage, that Tae Joon shivered at the sight.

Still catching his breath, he scrambled to his feet, refastening his pants with trembling fingers. Crouching to pluck the forgotten Wingman from the corner it had slid into when it fell from his hands, he racked his brain for a good excuse that would explain the state of his shirt. The rest of the team would undoubtedly comment on it when he returned.

\--------------------

"Damn, bruddah, what happened to you?" Makoa called as Crypto stepped through the airlock. Witt -- who was sat on the couch with his back to the airlock -- whipped around at the man's words, his gaze then drifting to Park, eyes widening.

Park shrugged. "Fell into a flyer's nest. It was...occupied."

Anita snickered, "Looks more like it was mating season." 

Everyone laughed, except Witt.

\--------------

Park stood under the warm flow of the showerhead, watching the wounds on his chest heal themselves into barely-visible scars.

_ What just happened? What  _ was _ that thing?!  _ Crypto had encountered plenty of the Shadowfall monsters before, but it had always been a short affair, usually ending with two bullets in the creature's brain, or (occasionally) with him coming-to on the dropship, sore and disoriented from having his face bashed in by one.

These encounters were  _ not _ supposed to end with a fucking orgasm, that was for sure.

Drying off, he glanced in the mirror. The wounds were completely healed, impossible to find if you didn't know they were there. But his throat ached, the human skin around it reddened and hot to the touch from the monster's searing grip.

He stepped into a pair of black sweatpants before pulling a hoodie over his head, hoping the bulky fabric would conceal the state of his neck until it was finished healing. Flopping down on the bed, he closed his eyes and willed himself to forget what he had just seen, what he'd _done._

There was a knock at the door. 

He couldn't think of anyone on the ship whose presence he wouldn't find unbearable at the current moment. He groaned, dragging himself from the bed and stomping over to the door, wrenching it open with a bitter  _ what? _ already waiting on his tongue, ready to strike at whoever was on the other side.

It was Wraith. She jumped a little at the forcefulness of his movements, staring at him with those wide, blue eyes.

"Sorry to bother you. I can--I'll come back later--" she turned to leave.

"Wait," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Come in." He stepped aside, motioning for her to cross the threshold, before flopping back down on the bed.

Wraith was one of the few legends whose presence he didn't find grating. She was quiet, kept to herself mostly, and was the only other person on the team anywhere near as paranoid as Park himself -- always looking over her shoulder, watching her back, never letting her guard down for a second. She was a dependable squadmate in the ring, and those stunning blue eyes didn't hurt, either.

She closed the door behind her, icy gaze traveling to different points of interest in the room -- the large arrangement of monitors on his desk, the drone hovering in the corner, the framed photograph on his desk -- before coming to rest on Park himself.

"You alright?" she asked, looking him over.

He rubbed at his scalp, not meeting her gaze. "Yes, I am fine. Rough match." He wasn't lying.

"Looks like it," she mused, and Park was grateful she seemed content to leave it at that.

"That what you came here to ask?" It came out sounding a lot meaner than he'd meant it to.

"No. Sorry to bug you," she looked down at her feet, then glanced at his drone. "I need a favor."

He sat up on the bed, meeting her gaze.

"What kind of favor?"

\-----------------------------------

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this isn't turning into a Crypto/Wraith fic, Park's just human (and bi, fight me) and Wraith is real purdy and she's worried about her friend, okay, because he's not eating his pork chops and something is _wrong_ and she knows it. I will probably be writing some Crypto/Mirage/Wraith smut eventually, if that's something y'all would be interested in, but I don't see it happening in this fic. More one-shot material, I think.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short, I just wanted to make sure I had something up for your guys for Halloween! Plus, I needed to get the whole Shadow!sex thing out of my system before we carry on.
> 
> I gotta pause the porn-writing to get some plot stuff out of the way next chapter. BUT there's an especially tasty scene coming up, so if it's not in Chapter 3, fear not -- we WILL return to your regularly scheduled vampire smut in Chapter 4. Chapter 3 will be, at the very least, interesting plot-wise and appropriately spooky, if not also filled with vampire smut. Just gotta have some important stuff happen first, to more easily facilitate said blood-suckin' smut. I actually wrote one of those scenes today because I'm like a kid who wants to eat dessert before they have their dinner. I wrote the dessert, now I gotta go back and write the first 3 courses of the meal, ya dig? 
> 
> But trust, it'll be worth the wait. Elliott's about to be _thirsty_ in every sense of the word.
> 
> I'm having way too much fun with this one, guys. If you couldn't already tell.


	3. Swordplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm just testing a theory," Park spins the knife with nimble fingers. "You're in a bad way tonight, Witt."
> 
> Witt is choosing his words carefully, voice pitched down and ragged. "You have no idea what you're talking about, first of all. But I'm running _real fuckin' low_ on patience today, kid. You really wanna poke the bear right now? The starving bear? You really think that's a good idea?"
> 
> Park rests the blade against the part of his palm that isn't synthetic, pausing to meet Elliott's widening eyes and murmuring, "Let's find out," before digging the knife into his own flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, y'all order some plot with that porn? Figured I'd get it out of the way, since the next chapter is all blood-suckin' goodness and bisexual tension.
> 
> Hold on to yer butts, fellas.

_ This is a stupid favor _ , Park thinks. But she hadn't held a gun to his head, and yet here he was doing it anyway, creeping through the darkness of King's Canyon, alone, after the games had ended for the day.

She'd promised to let him get a look inside that unbelievable armband she used to create her portals. All he had to do was just follow Witt -- discreetly, of course, with his drone -- then find out what exactly he was getting up to, and report back Wraith.

Well, he'd always been a sucker for a pretty face, and the chance to reverse-engineer such a unique piece of tech was rather tempting. Also tempting was the chance to explore this strange, dark version of King's Canyon, without bullets interfering and the Syndicate observing his every move.

And if, as she'd claimed, Witt  _ was _ sneaking out of the dropship and into the arena after-hours, well, he wanted to know  _ why _ . Perhaps it had something to do with that... _ strange _ encounter he'd had with Witt's Shadow in the cave two nights before. Even though the scorched skin around his throat had already healed up, he could still feel the Shadow's searing touch against his bare flesh. He'd tried to push it out of his mind, but every time his eyes closed, it all came rushing back. God, the  _ heat,  _ it had been almost unbearable. And now he couldn't stop thinking about it.

If he wasn't going to be sleeping anyway, he might as well utilize the next few hours and be somewhat productive.

And that was how he'd come to his present position, nestled out of sight behind some bushes outside Skull Town, surveilling the surrounding arena through his drone's point of view. 

With the legend banners powered off, the greenish glow of the augmented-reality overlay projected by his ocular implant was the only light for dozens of meters -- the only exception being the sickly green glow of the flyers and leviathans. It occurred to him that their presence meant that someone had destroyed the Repulsor station in this version of the Canyon, too.  _ Curious _ .

They'd all had to travel through one of Wraith's portals to even reach this strange place -- clearly an alternate dimension -- so if the Repulsor here was also broken, did that mean there was also a version of  _ himself _ that belonged to this dark dimension, who was responsible for blowing this one up? The thought made his head spin. Other dimensions were Wraith's thing, and having multiple versions of oneself was Witt's area of expertise -- the idea that there could be another Tae Joon out there somewhere, lurking in the darkness... well, it was curious, to say the least. And if Park had one weakness, one tragic flaw in his character -- chronic curiosity had to be it.

Prior to the start of the new season, he'd overheard Wraith confiding in Elliott that she'd once seen another version of herself, that a Wraith from another dimension had saved the Wraith he knew, and freed her from Singh's clutches. Though it was a wild story, he had no reason to doubt her -- unlike Witt, Renee wasn't exactly prone to telling tall tales for the sake of getting attention, and she was certainly the most knowledgeable legend when it came to interdimensional travel. Tae Joon believed her.

But there were differences between this version of the canyon and the one he'd personally wrecked on Solace. Aside from the obvious -- the eternal moonlight replacing Solace's unrelenting sun rays -- there were some subtle differences between this place and the King's Canyon that Witt called home. For one, Singh's lab was nowhere to be found, or perhaps hadn't yet been unearthed in this timeline, despite the presence of wildlife indicating this arena's Repulsor had also been tampered with, like the one Park himself had destroyed on Solace. What was more, the place was utterly overrun with hordes of those ghoulish Shadow creatures. They'd stick to the sidelines at first, watching the legends pick each other off one by one. Then, the moment the Shadows outnumbered the legends, they'd attack, and it was a mad dash to the evacuation zone for the few legends lucky enough to survive the ghostly predators that were hunting them down.

A rather sick concept for a new type of match, but it  _ was _ a bloodsport, after all. Still, every slight breeze that swept through the canyon had him peering over his shoulder, scanning the surrounding area for any hint of the strange, almost feral creatures.

Getting brutally killed was always a possibility in the arena. At no point, however, had surprise sex with one of those  _ things _ been mentioned as a potential risk of gameplay, and Crypto had a feeling that if this had happened to anyone else, he'd have heard about it by now, one way or another.

As if on cue, the phone in his pocket buzzed, his optical implant projecting the message across his field of vision instantly: "Be careful out there. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The number was unknown but the tone was familiar. Tae Joon huffed, mildly irritated. Cryptic text messages sent from unknown numbers were  _ his _ thing. He messaged back, "No promises."

The night Renee had visited his room, she'd ended up staying for over two hours. Together, they'd pondered the strangeness of this new dimension. It was Wraith who had transported them to this strange new world in the first place, and Tae Joon found he was eager to pick her brain for all the info he could get...without having to reveal  _ exactly _ what had happened to him in that cave.

"What exactly are they, these Shadows? They are shaped like you and I, but when a legend is eliminated, they are instantly transported back to the ship. Where do these Shadows come from, and why do they take on such familiar forms?" he'd asked her eagerly.

"They're like mental snapshots," she'd replied, but after seeing his confused expression, she elaborated, "They're impressions of the legend's psyche at the moment of their death." He nodded, urging her to continue. "They're all urges and impulses, no real action going on in there, cognitively. Lizard-brain stuff. They're just an imprint, a recording of what that person's needs or goals were at the time of death. Which is usually to kill you. That's why the same ones keep coming after you, over and over. If that legend died wanting to kill you specifically, that's what their Shadow will want, too. They're a native species here. A sort of reflective, shapeshifting ant colony, if you will. It's actually pretty fascinating, when you ignore how fucking creepy they are." She sounded almost bored, and Park hoped he didn't sound too eager when he pressed her for more information.

"And you know all of this, how?"

She sighed with exasperation. "I told you, I just kinda... _ found _ this place. Or it found me. It's...different here, even in the Void. Quieter, somehow. I found it during a match, and the people who run the games -- the Syndicate, you said? -- anyway, they were  _ all _ over it, like, instantly. Wanted to use the arena here, asked if I'd open a portal to get us there and back for this Halloween thing. Even offered me a little bonus." 

She was so matter-of-fact about it, discussing interacting with those  _ animals _ . Taking their blood money.  _ The Syndicate _ . Just hearing it said aloud made his stomach lurch.

"And you...agreed to this?" he tried not to sound too accusatory.

"You wouldn't have?" she snapped back. "Look, some of us have bills to pay. Not everyone's an edgy tech genius who can hack 5000 legend tokens into their account whenever they want, okay?" she glanced at the floor. "And my therapy is fucking expensive."

The snarky comeback waiting on his tongue suddenly evaporated. He hadn't even thought about how the horrors she'd experienced in Singh's lab might affect her outside the ring -- even if she  _ had _ volunteered for them. Warning voices are a great asset when there's a sniper aiming at you, but they surely carried with them plenty of unpleasant side effects in day-to-day life. He looked at his feet, trying to formulate an apology. " _ Miahnhe, _ I did not--"

"It's dumb anyway," she interrupted him, waving away the uncomfortable subject at hand, "I thought we left King's Canyon because  _ somebody _ was blowing shit up and posing a security risk," she shot him a suspicious look. "But look around, this place has been blown to pieces and stomped on by leviathans, too. I don't get it. Guess they're just into the whole spooky aesthetic."

He nodded silently, trying to process the new information. Renee huffed impatiently.

"Alright, Park. That's all I got. I'll keep you informed and let you know if I learn anything else -- about this weird dimension, or the Syndicate. Deal?" She paused for a moment. "Look, I already sent you the schematics for my phase-tech -- and that's all you're getting! You can 'take a look inside it' the day you pry it from my cold, dead hands. Seriously, Park -- you lay a single cybernetic finger on this thing and you're gonna find yourself missing a few. Got it?"

Park raised his palms submissively. "Got it."

She relaxed a little. "OK, my turn. I do all that for you, you gotta do something for me. Something important."

"You have my word. What is this favor that you need so badly?"

For the first time that night, she refused to meet Park's analytical gaze.

"I...I need you to follow Elliott."

Park raised an eyebrow. "Witt? Why--"

"Something happened to him," she interrupted again. "Something bad. He's...he's not himself, he's acting strange, avoiding friends, his fans, and his favorite foods." 

Park resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"He looks  _ awful _ ," she continued, "I don't know if you've noticed -- his eyes are all red, dark circles underneath like he hasn't slept for a month, he's losing weight, always tired…" she trailed off, lost in thought for a moment before adding, more quietly, "And....he's lying to me. Avoiding me." She fiddled with a dark strand of hair that had come loose from her bun, hanging near the nape of her neck. "He's hiding something." 

That got Park's attention. He leaned forward on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching her face closely as she continued.

"Look, I know Elliott, and something is  _ wrong _ . He's sneaking out of the ship at night, lying about where he goes, and--" she stopped herself, glanced across the room at Park. "And this--what I'm about to say--this all stays between you and I, Park. Is that clear? It stays in this room, or I will kick your ass into the next dimension, you got that?"

Park nodded silently. She was mildly terrifying like this.

She folded her arms. "Good. Glad we understand each other." 

There was a rather awkward pause, and when she broke the silence, her tone was different, softer. Scared. 

"You were still in a game, so you didn't see it. But the other day he came back from a match looking like, like...like  _ you _ , actually. He looked like you looked the other day when you'd fallen in that flyer's nest, but even  _ worse _ . White as a ghost, completely soaked in blood -- he wouldn't answer Ajay when she asked whose it was -- his shirt ripped half off, soaking wet, shaking like a damn leaf. I'd seen him at the beginning of the match, he was perfectly fine, acting totally normal. Neither of us had a gun yet, I chased him down and got some damage on him with my knife -- not nearly deep enough to cause THAT much blood, mind you -- then he pulled his disappearing act and I lost him near the caves, couldn't tell which direction he'd gone. But he was perfectly fine, even after we fought. Costume intact, acting totally normal. I mean, he was scared -- he  _ hates _ my Night Terror costume, and he was bleeding a little from where I nicked his leg -- but when he got back to the ship? Oh my  _ god _ , he looked like he'd seen a ghost, and then gotten into a fist fight with it and a Leviathan at the same time."

Park couldn't help but snort at the mental image her words evoked. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's not funny, Park. I didn't see him again after that at all, for the entire duration of the match. Nobody did. He said he missed the evac ship, but he was nowhere near the LZ. When they came to pick him up, he was way out near the caves still, at some random beacon. Seemed like he'd barely covered any ground the entire match. Anyway, he came back to the ship looking like he'd arm-wrestled a Ronin-class titan and lost. He was acting shifty as hell, blowing off questions, and he bailed out of the common area super fast, which just isn't like him. When he came back out after his shower, I noticed something on his neck. You were back from your match by then, actually--"

"What kind of something?" Park interrupted. He'd been there, like she said, and had overheard the conversation as it happened, but hadn't gotten a good look at Witt's neck, in part because Witt was being insufferably annoying -- moreso than usual -- and hounding him with stupid questions about a stupid costume that he most definitely was  _ not  _ wearing, especially in the ring.

"A wound. Well, two of them. Big, ugly, and right on his neck."

"A knife wound, or--?"

Renee shook her head. "Puncture wound. Two of them. And you know what he said, when I asked how he got it?" 

Park nodded. "Spider, in a loot bin."

She laughed, "You  _ were _ eavesdropping! But...yeah, he said a loot bin spider bit him. I'm sure you can understand my concern here."

Park nodded. It was obvious to him (and surely Witt) that the zombies and spiders coming out of those loot bins were holograms. You could shoot them and they'd "die" -- not unlike one of Elliott's decoys -- but even if you didn't, they'd stop moving on their own after a few seconds, so legends didn't have to chase them around the arena to get their loot. They  _ definitely _ weren't attacking anyone. Jumping out at people, sure. But biting them? On the  _ neck? _ Not a fucking chance. They weren't sophisticated holograms like Elliott's decoys, and they damn sure didn't have venom. They were, at worst, annoying holiday decor. Wraith was right -- Witt  _ was _ lying.

"The wound -- it wasn't already healing when you saw it?" he asked, referring to the dermal-regeneration & decontamination procedure each legend received automatically upon re-entering the drop ship, which detected and healed most injuries.

"Nope. But the spot where I cut him was already healed shut. If anything, that bite was getting  _ worse _ . Tell me how the ship's A.I. didn't fix it, or at the very least, quarantine him?" 

"The ship's A.I. is shit," he stated it as if it were a scientific fact. "But you're right."

"I  _ know _ I'm right!" she snapped defensively. "Are you gonna help me or what?" 

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"He's sneaking out of the ship every night, around 18:00, once the games are done for the day--er,  _ night _ . I don't know when he gets back, I'm always asleep by then, so he's out there a long fucking time. I want to know what he's doing."

Park shot her a skeptical look. "He's sneaking out? Doesn't the ship--?"

" _ The ship's A.I. is shit _ ," she snapped back, imitating his way of speaking. "That's you. That's how you sound."

He actually laughed. Her quick wit and biting sarcasm almost reminded him of Mila. No wonder Witt was always following her around.

"Look, just...tail him with your drone and find out what he's hiding, will you? And then tell me." Her expression was stormy, brooding; she really was worried. She looked over at him from her perch on his dresser. "Will you do it?"

He sighed. "I will."

"Thank you. I owe you one, Park." She turned and moved towards the door.

"Hey," he blurted out suddenly, surprising himself. 

She stopped at the door, turning to look at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

"Witt's lucky to have a friend like you watching his back," he mumbled, shifting his gaze downward to avoid uncomfortable eye contact.

She smiled. 

"He is. And so are you."

She winked, disappearing into a ghostly trail of indigo light.

\---------------

Tae Joon jerked awake, startled by rustling coming from a nearby bush.  _ Damn _ . He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He glanced at the clock on his AR display. It had been three hours. Park was a patient man, no stranger to long stakeouts for the sake of gaining vital information. But the canyon was cold as hell without Solace's endless sunshine, and -- if he was being honest -- the dark, abandoned version of the arena was starting to give him the creeps. He wasn't armed, and every door and loot crate was locked tight. If he met with a Shadow, he was done for.  _ Come on, Witt. Where are you? _

The sound of Jee's motion sensor detecting movement nearby threw him out of his reverie. When he re-linked with the hovering drone, he saw a figure jogging out of Skull Town, heading in the direction of the caves. It was Witt, wearing that bright-ass Ghost Machine suit and all but glowing in the moonlight.  _ Idiot _ .

The trickster vaulted over a rock, sliding down a hill with a metal platform built into it, near a respawn beacon and a trio of loot crates. Park watched as he reached the small structure and slowly crept around the corner of the attached building. 

_What is he doing?_ _Everything's locked, all he's going to do is wake up the flyer_, Park thought, eyeing the caged creature. Moving closer, he allowed the drone to hover (quietly, he hoped) several dozen meters above the building, giving him a bird's eye view of the action below.

Witt was inching towards the flyer's cage, back pressed against the wall of the small building. Tae Joon watched as the man quickly switched positions, flattening himself against the side of the animal's cage, out of its line of sight. Then, leaning forward, Witt reached out and unlocked the cage. 

The metal door flew upwards, freeing the creature within, who croaked as it was stirred from sleep, but luckily didn't start screeching.

Curiously sniffing the metallic scaffolding in front of it, the animal took a few cautious steps forward, leaving the cage. Park noted Witt was now perched atop the cage, crouching like some sort of glowing gargoyle. 

_ What are you doing?!  _ It was a matter of time before the creature noticed him and started screaming, alerting every Shadow in the canyon to Witt's presence and thus, his own. The creature stretched its wings, still groggy from slumber.

Park had just begun wondering if he was witnessing some sort of flyer-assisted suicide attempt when Witt suddenly sprang into action, leaping down onto the animal's back and twisting its neck forcefully to the side with a sickening crack at the same instant he buried his teeth deep in the creature's throat. 

Park was frozen, rooted to the spot with horror as a single, strangled shriek left the poor creature, blood beginning to pour from the place where Witt's teeth met its throat. It struggled for only a half-second before going limp and silent.

"What the  _ fuck _ ," he said aloud in spite of himself, still staring down at the scene beneath his drone in utter disbelief. It was both a statement and a question.

He watched as Witt tore his mouth from the creature's mangled neck, resting his forehead against it briefly to catch his breath. Blood was  _ everywhere _ . All over the legend's mouth, his chest, that nice white armor. It was pooling on the metal flooring, leaking through the holes and dripping onto the grass beneath the structure. 

How many minutes had passed? It could have been seconds. For the first time maybe ever, Witt seemed truly dangerous, and Park couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. He was frozen, holding his breath, utterly transfixed.

He'd left Jee hovering just close enough to the scene for the drone's audio equipment to catch the whispered, " _ I'm sorry _ ," that escaped Witt's lips as the flyer slumped lifelessly to the bloodstained floor, its vibrant greenish glow steadily fading into darkness. 

\---------------

Elliott awoke feeling worse than he had when he'd gone to sleep, if that was even possible. It felt like he had the flu. He was covered in cold sweat, clammy and feverish, and his head throbbed painfully when he dragged himself out of the bed. It had already been a long day, the games had been exhausting, frustrating, and incredibly stressful. He had hoped that taking a nap might restore a little vigor, but lately, the only thing that could do that was blood. But  _ fuck _ , hunting was extremely tiring, and he had  _ just _ fed the night before.

And even then, it wasn't exactly satisfying. The flyers' tough hides were hard to bite through, their blood was too salty, sneaking out to hunt them was incredibly inconvenient. But what else was he going to do? He could already feel every cell in his body screaming for blood again. He had to do  _ something _ .

It had been a last resort, really. In the days after he was bitten, though he felt increasingly awful, he'd done his best to ignore it.  _ Probably the flu, _ he had told himself, knowing damn well Lifeline had administered preventative hypo-sprays to the entire team at the beginning of October.

Ignoring it had seemed the best course of action for the time being, at least until the Shadowfall event was over and they were back in their home dimension. Elliott was relieved to hear the new limited-time matches would be fought in pairs, presumably back on Talos, or, even better -- in the real King's Canyon, on Elliott's sunny home planet, Solace.  _ Home sweet home _ . No more creeping around in the dark, all alone, being hunted.

Which was great! Except that now instead of worrying about being hunted, Elliott had to worry about  _ finding prey _ . Doing so would surely be even more difficult once they were away from the deep, dark, privacy-affording shadows of Shadowfall matches.

But he  _ had  _ to hunt, had to have  _ something  _ to sink his teeth into _ .  _ He'd learned that the hard way, during the "ignoring it" phase, when, three days after receiving the bite, he'd been tempted horribly during a match.

It had happened at the end of a game -- the rescue ship was inbound, and Elliott was going to win this one, goddammit! The evac ship hovered over Skull Town, which was overrun with Shadows chomping at the bit to get their claws into any living legend. Elliott had successfully avoided detection thus far with clever use of his tactical decoys, and had climbed atop a roof to hide while he let his ultimate charge before making the final push to the evac zone. He was using an ultimate accelerant when he smelled it, the scent carried to him by the gentle breeze sweeping through the canyon.

_ Blood. _

And it was  _ close _ .

Unable to resist, he leapt down from the roof of the metal shack, following the scent into one of the makeshift houses. He turned a corner and the scent became so strong it nearly bowled him over. Staggering backwards and grabbing the door frame to steady himself, he continued into the room, where he was surprised to see Renee. She was on the floor, sitting up with her back leaned against the metal wall, eyes closed, her face white as a sheet.

Natalie was leaning over her, frantically digging through a med kit with fumbling fingers. Elliott's breath hitched when his gaze drifted down to Renee's torso, the fabric of her suit torn open at the ribs to reveal a nasty-looking wound that was fucking  _ gushing _ blood.

Elliott felt lightheaded.

Opening her eyes at the sound of his footsteps, Renee looked up, noticing his presence. "Elliott…" she croaked, offering him a weak smile that made Elliott's chest constrict with guilt.

Natalie looked up then, too, her face a mask of sheer terror.

"Elliott!" she leapt to her feet, snatching his wrist, and dragging him to Renee's side. "You must 'elp me!"

She placed his hand on Wraith's stomach, the sticky wetness of the wounded legend's blood flowing through his fingers.

"Put pressure on ze wound!" Nat snapped, returning her attention to the med kit. "I'm an engineer, not a medic!" she exclaimed, to no-one in particular. 

"Relax, kid," Elliott said, finally finding his voice. "You're doing fine. Here, give me that bandage. You get the syringe ready." Natalie nodded, laser-focused on her task. And thank god she was -- Elliott's fangs had descended the moment he'd entered the room, he'd had to speak very carefully to ensure they were covered by his lips.

Renee met his eyes, looking relieved at his presence. "Guess I owe you one, Witt." She smiled weakly. He smiled back. She winced when Natalie jabbed the syringe in her arm, but otherwise kept her eyes on Elliott as he secured the bandage around her ribcage. Even while bleeding out on the damn floor, it felt like Renee could read his mind, see right through him. He could tell she sensed something was off. Thankfully, Natalie interrupted before anything could be said.

"Okay, you're done -- time to go,  _ allonsy! _ " she chirped in that lilting French accent, already skipping through the doorway and towards the incoming evac ship.

"Thanks," Renee said, groaning in pain as Elliott helped her to her feet. When his hand came away, it was covered in her blood. He could hear her heartbeat pounding in his head.  _ Fuck! _

Thinking fast, Elliott sent a tactical decoy running out the same door Natalie had left through. "There's your distraction, now go. And set a portal for me to follow, will ya? Not all of us can phase into invincibility when we get to the landing zone." He hoped his tone conveyed a sense of determined confidence, as opposed to a sense of, ' _ oh god, please go before I fucking eat you _ .'

Renee nodded, clearly determined to snag the win and evidently oblivious to the fangs that felt ready to pop out of his mouth. "Got it." 

And then she was gone, a small circle of Void energy fizzling where she had stood only a moment before, waiting to connect the two points with a portal.

The moment she was out of sight, Elliott gasped. He'd been breathing through his mouth through the entire encounter -- trying not to breathe at all, really -- and the strength of the scent that hit him when he finally took a deep breath of air through his nose was dizzying. 

Before he could stop himself, he was on his knees, dragging his fingers through the puddle of crimson blood that had leaked out of his best friend only moments before. He brought his hands to his mouth, sucking his fingers and unable to stop the moan that tore from his chest when the sweet essence of Renee's blood finally met his tongue.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is so wrong, oh my god,  _ He licked his palm, relishing the coppery taste as warmth spread through his entire body _ . Fuck, so good... _

The portal had already opened, it would take him straight to the ship, a guaranteed win. But there was so much blood pooling on the floor, it seemed a shame to let it all go to waste. It was still warm. He'd just spend another moment or two--

** _Enjoying yourself?_ ** thundered a familiar voice inside his head.

He was so enraptured by the taste of Wraith's blood, he wasn't even startled by the sound. He couldn't reply, only moaning softly around the fingers of his right hand as his left continued gathering up more blood from the floor.

The voice in his head just laughed.

When he was finished, he felt amazing. No more lethargy or nausea, full of energy. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he had jumped to his feet. But before he'd taken even a single step, the portal closed, and he'd heard the unmistakable sound of the evac ship taking off without him.

_ God fucking dammit. _

_ ~ _

It was that match that had made him realize just how totally, irreversibly fucked he was. He shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if Nat hadn't been there. Would he have lost control completely, let Renee bleed out onto his tongue? Or sent her to Lifeline's clinic with two un-healable holes in her throat and several pints of blood missing? Christ, what if they  _ hadn't _ been in the ring? What if she'd accidentally cut herself on that stupid knife of hers while they were at some media appearance for the games, and he'd sucked the life out of her for  _ real? _

That couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. He'd lost enough loved ones for a lifetime already. He had to protect her -- protect all of them, his friends -- from the monster he'd become.

And that was how he found himself sneaking through the darkness each night after the games, feeding on whatever wildlife he could hunt down and subdue easily.

It wasn't good. It wasn't satisfying. It tasted  _ awful _ , and never made him feel completely satiated. But it was better than nothing, and right now, it was all he had.

Approaching the Containment area that housed captured flyers, he heard--no, he  _ felt _ a strange, deep rumbling that seemed to come from the very earth itself. All at once, every single flyer in sight began screeching at the top of its lungs. The cages were rattling and clanging unbelievably loudly as the creatures head-butted their metal prisons, several of them crashing down from where they were stacked or tipping over onto their side. 

Hundreds of meters above them, the nearest leviathan let out a tortured noise so loud that Elliott had to cover his ears, the sound resonating in his chest. He backed away from the shrieking caged flyers -- they were way too agitated to risk trying to feed from, that only worked if he had the element of surprise on his side.  _ What the hell is happening? _

The entire island had erupted into the pained shrieking of various wildlife, and Elliott watched as every single flyer not chained to the canyon took to the skies and flew towards the ocean.  _ There goes dinner _ , he thought bitterly.

Suddenly, an earthquake seemed to hit the entire canyon at once, throwing Elliott to the ground. Looking up, he watched the screaming leviathan lift its giant feet, dropping them down and smashing everything beneath with each step, as it plodded towards the body of water surrounding the island. He could tell from the shifting, rustling trees on the horizon that the other enormous animal was doing the same.  _ Why are they leaving? _

And then he realized it. Someone had fixed the Repulsor, or turned it back on or  _ something _ , and the high-pitched noise it was currently emitting had scared off any meal Elliott might have had a chance at.

_ Well, if it's that easy to turn on, it can't be  _ too _ hard to turn off, right? _

Taking a deep breath, he began the trek to the nearest redeploy balloon, hoping whoever had turned on Repulsor would be gone by the time he got there. He wasn't really feeling up to a fist fight at the moment.

He'd fed the night before, but flyer blood wasn't nearly enough to keep him satiated, and he was already weak from living on it for days. That relatively small sip of Wraith's blood had kept him sated for 48 hours, and his mood, appearance, physical strength -- everything had returned to normal for a time. Heck, better than normal -- he'd felt  _ amazing. _

But since then, he'd only had the flyer blood. And since then, he'd slowly begun deteriorating again. The flyer blood could keep him alive -- or whatever he was -- but that was all it could do, fulfill the bare minimum: keep Elliott alive- _ ish _ and keep him from snacking on his friends.

Though he was chronically exhausted, weak, and  _ hungry _ , at least he wasn't  _ starving.  _ But now? Now he  _ was  _ going to starve, if he didn't get that repulsor shut down, and quick.

Approaching the repulsor station, Elliott noticed the tower was still snapped in two, the top half leaning against a tree, parts of it still on fire, likely from the same kind of EMP blast that had taken it down on Solace.  _ Weird, still looks broken _ . Perhaps something else had scared the animals away.

Crossing under the concrete archway, he noticed one of the two large buildings near the rear part of the station had its lights on. Which was odd, as every other light in the arena was powered off once the games were done for the day, pitching the canyon into near-total darkness, and leaving the moon as the only source of light now that the bioluminescent flyers and leviathans were no longer illuminating the island. But not here, no, the big building in the rear left corner of the station was lit up like Christmas.

Drawing closer, Elliott spied a familiar silhouette perched on the roof of the building with the lights. He watched as the figure knelt to the ground, adjusting something Elliott couldn't see. When they stood again, they were holding what appeared to be a laptop. As they turned to enter the small room on the large building's rooftop, Elliott observed that a little floating greenish object was following them, hovering several feet above the ground. Suddenly, it hit him.

_ Motherfucker _ .

Elliott clenched his fists, storming towards the large, illuminated building.

\-------------------

After the shock of what he'd just witnessed had somewhat worn off, Tae Joon set to work. He needed a plan, and  _ fast. _ He'd bought himself some time, telling Renee he hadn't seen Elliott yet because he'd fallen asleep while waiting in that bush. Told her he needed another day or two to figure out what Witt was up to. She definitely hadn't been happy about it, but she at least seemed to buy his story, so he had some time to think about how much to tell her.

Witt definitely had some sort of alien parasite, or he  _ was _ one, or something. Probably picked it up in that seedy bar he ran on Solace. Whatever it was, Park wasn't personally at risk -- the colony of medical nanobots he'd gotten implanted several years before were top of the line. Snake bites, rabies, on-purpose-poisonings-made-to-look-accidental -- whatever biological weapon the Syndicate might want to use against him, he was prepared. Be it anthrax or a virus genetically coded specifically to wreck his immune system, the nanobots were excellent at isolating and destroying any harmful foreign substance that might find its way into his body, with a few exceptions. He had programmed the colony to leave certain substances alone -- even paranoid criminal super-hackers running from evil organizations need a shot of soju every now and then. 

The rest of the team, however, were unlikely to be full of venom-destroying nanobots, and even if they were, that wouldn't make a difference if Witt just attacked and bled them dry. They were all in danger if he couldn't keep that appetite under control. And judging by what Park had seen him do to that flyer the previous night, he couldn't.

But Park had a plan.

The next night, after distracting Ajay with a query about 3D-printed skin grafts, Park had sent Jee zooming down the hall to her medical bay. First hacking the lock to gain entry, the little drone scanned the room and relayed its contents to Park's optical implant. Later, while the field medic was having her dinner, Park himself slipped between the unlocked glass doors of the medical bay while his robotic companion kept watch -- and, once inside, knew exactly where to find what he was looking for.

~

When Witt steals away for his next nightly feeding session, Park is already at the repulsor station, laptop hooked up to the arena's speaker system, ready to hit play on an .mp3 file that will emit the same high-frequency soundwaves the repulsor itself is meant to emit -- impossible for humans to hear, but so unpleasant for animals that it drives almost all wildlife off the island.

Park sits on a large metal box in the tiny room atop one of the buildings that houses old tanks from the Frontier War. The laptop sits next to him, hijacking the arena's audio system and sending Witt's dinner running--well,  _ flying _ \--for the hills. And Witt's just seen him outside on the roof, so he knows Park is in there. It's just a matter of how fast the exhausted trickster can scale the building.

As it turns out, it's pretty damn fast.

The entire room shakes when the door is forcefully kicked in, broken glass and bent metal exploding inward, quickly followed by a very angry bloodsucker.

"What the  _ fuck _ are you doing up here?!" Witt practically yells.

Park looks up from his laptop, sizing up the man in front of him. Wraith was right, Witt looks  _ awful _ , like he's going to collapse any minute. Park isn't sure if he's shaking from anger or exhaustion.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." He replies cooly, one hand absentmindedly fiddling with his rubix cube.

Witt is wild eyed, furious, and looks like he wants to strangle him. But he's keeping his distance, and Park is pretty sure he knows why. 

"None of your goddamn business, Park, that's what!" Witt seethes back at him. Park has never seen him angry like this. It's sort of endearing, and just a little bit scary.

He shrugs, sitting the laptop aside and reaching down to pull the hacking knife from his boot. Not the ideal weapon, but perfect for his purposes. "I'm just testing a theory," he spins the knife with nimble fingers. "You're in a bad way tonight, Witt."

Spotting the knife, Witt finally takes a step towards him, narrows his eyes. The trickster is up close now, breathing heavy, daring him to do something, say something stupid. Daring Park to test him, to give him an excuse to tear his cybernetic throat out. 

Witt's choosing his words carefully, voice pitched down and ragged. "You have no idea what you're talking about, first of all. But I'm running  _ real fuckin' low _ on patience today, kid. You really wanna poke the bear right now? The  _ starving _ bear? You really think that's a good idea?"

Park rests the blade against the part of his palm that isn't synthetic, pausing to meet Elliott's widening eyes and murmuring, "Let's find out," before digging the knife into his own flesh.

\------------

Red blooms from the incision and the scent hits Elliott like a fucking grenade, blowing any remaining shreds of self-control to bits and pieces. His fangs are out and Park  _ sees _ them and Elliott  _ doesn't fucking care _ , because he  _ can't _ care, at this particular moment, about anything else in the world but getting Park's blood into his mouth. Elliott lunges at him.

Well, he  _ tries _ to lunge at Park, but something goes whizzing by his head and then he's being tazed, his muscles spasming uncontrollably as electricity arcs across his skin.

No, not tazed. EMP'd. 

_ That fucking drone, ugh! Thing is definitely more annoying than the bird. Like, twice as annoying, minimum. _

He falls to the floor at Park's feet with a soft  _ whump _ , muscles still twitching occasionally. 

When he's able to move again, he rolls over onto his back, opening his eyes. Park is smirking down at him with the little robot hovering at his side, it's focal lens darting back and forth between the two men as it chirps excitedly.

"Yes, he's fine," Park says, and Elliott realizes he's talking to the drone. His head is swimming. And pounding.

"You. Suck. So. Much." Elliott grits out when he's finally able, still trying to catch his breath.

Park nudges him with his foot. "You objectively suck more, in every sense of the word." He crouches over Elliott, elbows resting on his knees as he looks him over. "We need to have a chat, Witt. You gonna behave, or do I need to charge up Jee again?"

Elliott winces, pulling himself up into a sitting position, "Yeah, no, you're good. I'm not moving for a few more minutes," he says, rubbing his face. Park turns away, reaching around to fish something out of his backpack.

"Catch." 

Park flings that something in his direction, Elliott's hand reflexively coming up to snatch it out of the air. It's squishy and...cold.

It's a bag of blood. 

A single pint of donated blood, sealed in a clear plastic bag and still cold from the cooler in Lifeline's medical bay, from which it was undoubtedly stolen.

"Type O negative. Universal donor. I wasn't sure if you...had a preference." Park is eyeing him closely.

Elliott stares back in disbelief.  _ What is this, some kind of test?  _ He looks back at the bag. He can smell the chilled blood through the sealed plastic, and there's a bit of Park's own blood smeared on the label from the spot where he sliced open his hand. For some reason, that's what does it, and before he knows it, he's fangs-deep in the plastic, gulping down the cold liquid inside as his tongue drags across the bloodstain on the label.

It's still not as good as the puddle of fresh, warm vermilion that he had all but licked from the floor in Skull Town, but _ sweet merciful Jesus _ , it was the best thing he'd had in days, and he still shuddered at the way it seemed to flood his own veins with a warmth that took his breath away.

Park's watching intently, his expression somewhere between fascination and fear -- though as far as Elliott can tell, there's not a hint of revulsion. He can't focus on that thought though, because all that matters right now is getting as much of the sticky red liquid into his mouth as fast as he possibly can.

When the bag is finally drained, he lets the crumpled plastic drop to the floor, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Once coherent thought has returned to his brain, he takes a deep breath and looks up at Park.

"Thank you," he breathes.

Park shrugs, like it's nothing. But Elliott has to ask, has to know. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

"Because you're useless in the ring when you haven't fed, and I am tired of carrying you through the end of every match," Park crosses his arms, glaring at the floor and adding, "And because you're going to end up having one of your team mates for lunch if you don't get this under control."

Elliott knows he's right, and for once, he can't bring himself to say anything.

There's a not-uncomfortable silence, both of them waiting for the other to break it. Elliott finally does, nodding towards the deflated remains of the blood bag, lying crumpled on the floor. "Ajay's going to kill you."

Park grimaces. "She might have been its stand-in, had I not done this." He runs the hand that isn't bleeding through his hair, and when he speaks again, he sounds like he hasn't slept in days. "We have to find another safe way for you to feed."

Elliott raises an eyebrow, " _ We? _ "

Park shoots him a frustrated look. "Yes,  _ we _ . You're an idiot if you think you can do this alone. Your friends are starting to notice."

Elliott thinks back to the way Renee had looked at him while she bled all over the floor of that shack, while he'd stared at her half-drooling like a fucking idiot. The same look she'd given him on the dropship, when he'd blamed his bite wound on a loot bin spider. The look that said,  _ you're full of shit, Witt. _

"Did Renee put you up to this?"  _ Shit, maybe she knows more than I thought _ .

Park nodded. "Your secret is safe with me. But only if we find you find a safe way to feed." There it was again, that  _ we _ . Elliott bristles.

"Why do you give a fuck--?"

"Because I can't let you put everyone on the ship at risk,  _ idiot _ . We're in enough mortal danger on a daily basis without  _ you _ adding to it," Park snaps.

Elliott tries to think of a comeback but again, Park is annoyingly... _ right _ about all of this. It's a fact that is slowly beginning to piss him off, but he can't quite decide why that is.

Park approaches, kneeling down and reaching out to grasp Elliott's chin. Elliott flinches at the contact, but Park only tilts his chin to the side, eyes roving over the painful bite on his throat, wearing almost the same expression he'd seen in Renee's eyes on the ship days before, when she had done the same.  _ Worry _ . 

"Who--what did this to you?" Park's voice is uncharacteristically soft, gentle. Like Elliott doesn't have to answer the question if he doesn't want to.

Still, he scoffs. "Would you believe me if I said it was you?"

"Maybe. Elaborate."

So Elliott elaborates. He explains the cave, the version of Park with icy skin and pointed canines, the bite…and does his best to leave out the more sordid details.

For some reason, Park isn't looking at him like he's lost his mind, so that's kind of nice. When he's done with the story, Elliott can't help but add, "I would have fought him, p-punched him in the nose or something, I don't know, but it was  _ you _ and I didn't have a weapon and his eyes looked like--like--" he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just...I mean,  _ fuck _ , I didn't expect you--him-- _ it _ to fucking  _ bite _ me, and--"

Park raises a hand to stop the flood of excuses, shaking his head. Almost like he  _ gets _ it, like he understands. Like he's been there, personally. Like it's only a  _ little bit _ weird.

"It was not your fault. The ship should have healed your wounds after the match." Park states matter-of-factly. Elliott nods miserably.

Park continues, "You're right about the medic. Your secret won't be safe for long if blood donations start disappearing from her medical bay on a regular basis."

Elliott huffs. "Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought about that before you scared off my dinner,  _ asshole _ . What am I supposed to do now?"

"You need a donor. A reliable supplier."

Elliott cocked an eyebrow. "What, like a  _ person? _ Yeah, I'm good. The last thing we need is another bloodsucker running around."

"Not just any person," Park said softly. He lifted his hand -- the one he'd sliced open with the knife -- and extended it towards Elliott, palm facing up. Elliott glanced down at it.

The edges of the wound were surrounded by a collection of tiny inky-black dots, moving individually and as one, like some sort of colony of tiny insects. Elliott jerks backwards, and Park snorts.

"Ew, what  _ are _ those?!"

~

_ Nanobots. Christ _ . Park was a fucking madman.

But he was also Elliott's only option at the moment, and beggars can't be choosers.

\---------------------

There was an obvious flaw in their plan. Venom-proof nanobots aside, Park didn't have an accessible jugular vein -- it was covered in synthetic skin. His wrists had bits of synthetic skin and delicate cybernetic implants as well, and Elliott reckoned the veins in his arms were too small for his oversized canines to tap without utterly destroying them. 

But after accessing a few online medical texts, Park had come up with a solution.

"It's called the saphenous vein," he'd said, showing Elliott a medical diagram he'd brought up on one of the monitors on his desk. "It's near the femoral artery, inner thigh, but it's not quite as big, or as difficult to access. It's discreet, too. Any wounds would be concealed. It's perfect."

_ You're perfect _ , Elliott's brain reflexively replied, and he winced at how dumb it sounded, even in his head, as he leaned forward and stared at the screen, mouth going slightly dry at the thought of being anywhere near Park's thigh. 

Noting Elliott's skepticism, Park folded his arms. "Unless you have a better idea."

Elliott sighed. Park was right, because he always fucking was, but fuck, wouldn't that  _ hurt? _

"What, no crazy robot parts lodged in your legs? Color me shocked." Elliott pretended to focus on the screen in front of him, but he could feel Park staring at him from where he sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair and lacing those cybernetic fingers together behind his head while he sized Elliott up. Elliott wondered how he could seem so calm.

"Not a big fan of grenade-jumping," Park said with a smirk. "Not planning on any new leg hardware for the foreseeable future."

"And when you turn into a blood-sucking monster? What do I do then?"

Park rolled his eyes. "I already told you, you won't infect me. I'm fully protected. Immune. I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't sure."

Elliott rubs the back of his neck anxiously. They've been up all night, and the others will be waking up soon. They've got the weekend off, thank the gods, because ever since he drained the blood bag, all Elliott wants to do is go to sleep. Park looks tired, too.

"Alright, fine," Elliott relents. "We'll try it.  _ 'Try' _ being the operative word there, because in case you haven't noticed, this whole thing is  _ fucking nuts _ . Don't come crying to me if you wake up with fangs the day after."

Park smirks. "Do you always complain this much? We haven't even gotten to the hardest part yet. But if we don't do this now, things will only get harder for you, Witt."

Elliott sighs, rubbing at tired eyes.

"That's--that's what she said."

  
  
  


\-------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you survived to the end of this ridiculously long chapter, please proceed to the next one for your equally-ridiculous prize.
> 
> This fic is ruining me, y'all. I threw some more Wraith in this time for you thirsty bitches, we'll see how things pan out with her.
> 
> Sorry in advance for the pure, unfiltered trash you're about to read next.


	4. Drinking You Down, Like I Wanna Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A-are you okay? I tried to only take a little. Didn't want to drain you before you're used to...to this. N-not that you have to get used to this, we don't have to do this again, just please, please turn that Repulsor thing off so I don't starve to dea--" Elliott is cut off when two of Park's fingers press against his bloodstained lips.
> 
> "How often do you need to feed?" Park asks, his voice softer than Elliott has ever heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to Billy Eilish's "Bury a Friend" while you read this. It's appropriately spooky, it was pretty much played on a loop while I wrote this.
> 
> Also uhhh self-harm warning at the end there, kinda? Is it self-harm if it's a decoy? Idk, whatever. Y'all been warned, shit gets dark in this one.
> 
> ALSO: @Romanticallyinept totally helped me write this here blood-suckin' scene, and it wouldn't be half as delicious without her input, so go heap praise upon her kthx.

A few nights later, in Park's room, they try. Park's coat and pants are off, he's only wearing a cotton t-shirt and boxer briefs, and Elliott's standing there in his room and _oh god oh god this is_ _happening_ whether they're ready or not. Park is visibly shaking before Elliott has even come near him.

"We don't have to do this," he mutters, unable to even look at Park.

"Yes," Park replies, sitting on the edge of his bed. "We do."

_"Fine,"_ Elliott says, "But we're going slow. I could hurt you."

Park just rolls his eyes.

_ It's now or never, _ Elliott thinks, kneeling on the floor between Park's legs and realizing, quite suddenly, that he's hungry again. Or  _ thirsty, _ rather.

He takes a deep breath, smoothing his hand up Park's inner thigh, just to get him used to being touched there. Then he hikes the leg of Park's boxer briefs slightly further up his thigh, pulls said leg over his own shoulder, and leans forward, licking and nosing against the inside of Park's thigh while he hunts for the vein.

Park's eyes are squeezed shut, fingers fisting the sheets with white knuckles, and he trembles slightly with each swipe of Elliott's tongue. Elliott absently wonders if his beard feels ticklish against Park's thigh.

Every single one of Elliott's physical senses are on edge, but his brain feels like pudding. His thumb is stroking the inside of Park's thigh, trying to be absolutely sure he doesn't miss the vein.

"I-it might hurt..." Elliott starts, trailing off when he looks at Park, who is now lying flat on his back, jaw set, cheeks crimson and chest heaving with each shaky breath.

"Good. _Do it."_ He grits out. 

So Elliott does it. 

With a few more soft licks against Park's skin, Elliott tongues the pulsing vein once more before sinking those sharp fangs into the sensitive flesh of Park's inner thigh.

_ "Unngh--ah!" _

Park, to his credit, manages to keep his fingers tangled in the sheets instead of fisting Elliott's hair like he instinctively wants to, and though the sound that comes out of his mouth is undeniably a moan, it could  _ perhaps _ be mistaken for a pained groan.

Tugging Park's underwear higher up his thigh, the sound that leaves Elliott's lips when Park's blood touches his tongue most definitely  _ is  _ a pleasured moan, and it's fucking  _ obscene, _ but he doesn't care. He's instantly hard in his pants, and can't help but move his free hand between his own legs -- other hand still holding Park's thighs apart, exposing the sensitive flesh to Elliott's greedy, sucking mouth. One glance at Park is enough to tell he's  _ definitely _ not in any state to notice anything but the hot mouth currently attached to his inner thigh, and Elliott is immensely grateful for this fact, as he's unable to resist palming his cock through his pants.

Park's head is thrown back, eyes closed and brow knotted, shuddering against Elliott's tongue. And _fuck,_ he tastes _so_ _fucking good_ Elliott can't help but moan against his thigh again, the vibrations making Park let out another little distressed sound. Elliott wants to keep him here forever, shuddering under his mouth, but he knows he can't, knows he has to stop himself. With a few final licks against the wound, and an _immense_ amount of self-control, he forces himself to pull back from Park's thigh, far earlier than he otherwise would have preferred. _Don't wanna drink too much, too soon. Don't wanna hurt him. _

Mouth smeared with blood, Elliott gasps out "Thank you," and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.  _ "Fuck, _ thank you, thank you so much..." He leans his head against the side of the bed, eyes closed, shuddering at the warmth flooding through his veins and blooming in his chest and cheeks. He sucks an errant drop of blood from his thumb, groaning at the taste and feeling fucking invincible, like he could outrun Octavio right now if he wanted to.

When he looks up at Park -- who has finally mustered the strength to sit up -- the sight in front of him sends a searing wave of lust burning through him, immediately followed by a striking pang of guilt. Park's face is slightly pale from blood loss, though his cheeks are still flushed rosy pink. His chest is heaving, arms shaky. He's also rock fucking hard, Elliott realizes, and he's staring down at Elliott with an expression that's somewhere between awe-struck and predatory. Crimson stains his thigh, his underwear, his shirt, the sheets -- even with the gentle pressure Elliott's been putting on the wound with his hand since he removed his mouth from it.

"A-are you okay? I tried to only take a little. Didn't want to drain you before you're used to...to this. N-not that you have to get used to this, we don't have to do this again, just please,  _ please _ turn that Repulsor thing off so I don't starve to dea--" Elliott is cut off when two of Park's fingers press against his bloodstained lips.

"How often do you need to feed?" Park asks, his voice softer than Elliott has ever heard it.

"I--I'm not...entirely sure. This is the first, um, human blood I've had straight from the, uh, the  _ source, _ and it's a lot more, uhm,  _ filling  _ than what I was working with before. I...had to feed on those flyers every single night," he stammers, avoiding Park's gaze because the memory is so humiliating. "But I could probably go a week on this meal alone, so..."

_ "So," _ Park interrupts, "I'll see you back here, same time, on Tuesday."

"This Tuesday?" Elliott asks, confused, "That's only three days from now, I could probably go longer without--"

"Yes.  _ This _ Tuesday." Park is so matter-of-fact about it, even as he's wiping the blood from his thigh with a wet cloth, that Elliott decides not to argue.

_ Shit, I should have cleaned him up, _ Elliott thinks, feeling slightly guilty as he watches Park wince when the washcloth swipes over the fresh wound, the inky nanobots in his bloodstream already surrounding each puncture mark, protecting the broken skin and destroying Elliott's venom. Park looks up from his task, eyeing Elliott curiously.

"So shall I be expecting you, or are you hoping you'll have found another adequate....donor....by then?"

_ Welp _ . Elliott swallows nervously.  _ Tuesday it is. _

\--------------------------------------------------

When Tuesday comes, Elliott is even more nervous than before. So nervous he can't tell if he's hungry (or thirsty) or not. More concerning than his level of hunger, at this particular moment, is the way his pants grow painfully tight every time he thinks about the way Park had been laid out before him on that bed, whimpering in pain as Elliott licked and sucked at the junction of his hip and thigh, mouth smeared with red. Something  _ had _ to be fucking wrong with him for finding that image so painfully hot. He hadn't wanted to stop when he did -- the blood-drinking or the thigh-licking -- and it scared the hell out of him. 

The last week had been a nightmarish blur, but for a few brief moments, with his lips on Park's skin, everything had felt okay. And realistically, that was mostly due to the insane release of endorphins in Elliott's brain any time his tongue made contact with warm blood. Elliott knew that. He'd been expecting that, the rush of pleasure and warmth in his chest -- it had happened before, in Skull Town, when he'd tasted fresh human blood for the first time. 

What he hadn't expected was the overwhelming urge to do  _ other _ things to the mysterious new legend as he squirmed against Elliott's mouth. Things that weren't, strictly speaking, absolutely  _ necessary _ for him to successfully feed. Things like pushing Park's shirt up his chest and leaving a wet trail of kisses down his stomach. Things like yanking down the fabric separating him from Park's cock, taking him into his mouth and making him beg, making him whimper that desperate little  _ "Ah!" _ sound again,  _ fuck. _

And...Park,  _ Christ, _ he'd been hard from it, too. Elliott flushed at the memory, feeling silly. It was totally normal, and it didn't mean a damn thing -- for god's sake, he'd had his mouth, his  _ tongue _ all over the kid's bare skin, inches from his dick --  _ anyone _ would have gotten a boner from that. It didn't mean the kid wanted to fuck him. Park probably didn't even swing that way, anyway. It didn't mean anything and it didn't matter.

...so why did it  _ feel _ like it did? The way Park had looked at him afterwards, when he'd pulled away, bloody-mouthed and gasping, Park had looked at him like--like--

_ Like he wanted to fuck you. _

Elliott forced himself to stop imagining what would have happened if, after pulling his mouth away from the hacker's blood-soaked thigh, he'd then pulled Park's boxers down over his hips and swallowed every inch of his cock until he was gagging around him.  _ He'd have punched you in the fucking face, idiot, that's what would have happened, _ his conscience immediately answered.

Elliott agreed.

When 8 o'clock rolled around, he waited a few extra minutes before heading down the hall to knock on Park's door. He'd barely knocked twice when it swung open.

"You're late." Park looked him up and down, then stood aside and motioned for him to enter.

"Yeah, sorry about that. A little nervous, I guess." Elliott didn't know where to stand -- should he sit on the bed? Would that be too--

_ "I'm _ the one getting my blood drained, and  _ you're _ nervous?" Park snorted.

"Listen, we don't have to do this," Elliott folded his arms, leaning forward and squinting at one of the many monitors arranged on Park's desk, desperate for anything to look at besides the beautiful man staring him down across the room.

"Yes, you have mentioned that several times. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that you are utterly  _ useless _ in the ring when you haven't fed. I am tired of carrying you through the end of every match." Park was obviously in some sort of mood -- probably just eager to get it over with and Elliott could hear him sigh, followed by the telltale rustle of fabric as he sat on the bed.

"Look, why don't we just go to Ajay, ask if you can donate some blood," Elliott turned around, "Like, blood from your  _ arm, _ I mean, and then we'll--" his eyes fell on Park, reclining on the bed. He almost choked.

Park was completely naked. 

"I'd prefer it if all of my clothes weren't ruined  _ every _ time we do this." Park said flatly, motioning to the nearly-healed bite mark on his thigh from their previous encounter. Seeing it almost healed up -- not swollen and infected, like the one on his own throat -- filled Elliott with a deep sense of relief.

"Y-yeah, sorry, I uh, sh-should have warned you…it gets a little messy sometimes." Elliott stuttered, trying not to stare. The way Park was looking at him had his heart pounding, and stringing together a coherent sentence was becoming increasingly challenging. He swallowed, unable to stop his eyes from roving over every square inch of Park's exposed skin, mouth watering.  _ Fuck, he's beautiful. _

"What's the matter  _ old man, _ not hungry today?" Park raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. 

Elliott went to the foot of the bed and wordlessly dropped to his knees, roughly pulling Park's hips towards his mouth and growling, "I'm always hungry," in a voice so low and gravelly he almost didn't recognize it as his own.

~

Park is spread out on the bed, thigh slung over Elliott's shoulder like the night before. They decide to use the opposite thigh this time, to give the other side more time to heal. Those dark eyes are fixed on Elliott, watching him carefully...and  _ fuck, _ Park smells so  _ good _ . Elliott feels his sharp canines descend as he breathes in his scent, and it suddenly occurs to him that the heartbeat he can hear pounding in his ears is not his own.

He drags his tongue up Park's thigh, one hand holding his thigh back, the other gripping Park's hipbone, thumb tracing soft, soothing circles around it. When he slides his palm from Park's hip to his lower belly and begins stroking him there, the noise Park makes is almost pitiful.

Elliott's mouth finds the vein almost immediately, but he can't resist a few teasing licks, tracing over the flesh covering it with his tongue, then gently dragging his fangs along the length of it and relishing the way the man beneath him shudders.

_ "Please," _ it's barely a whisper, but it makes Elliott throb in his pants when he hears it.

He's nestled between the hacker's thighs now, looking up at him through dark lashes, lips and tongue painting a trail of wetness up Park's inner thigh. The kid is shaking like a leaf, cock bobbing against the back of Elliott's hand on his bare belly, and Elliott  _ knows _ he should start feeding now, just get it over with, but the fucking  _ sounds _ coming out of Park -- just from Elliott's hands and mouth on his skin -- are making it impossible to focus on anything else.

And Park's hard,  _ fuck, _ just like before, and he has been since he took his clothes off, and he's sighing and shaking and he smells  _ so fucking good _ that Elliott can't help it anymore, he just can't. 

_ Fuck it. _

He leans forward and lets his tongue dart out to catch the little drops of pre-cum dripping down Park's cock because  _ fuck, he looks so good like this.  _ Park lets out a soft  _ "Mmngh!" _ sound, entire body jerking at the unexpected contact. 

Elliott shushes him, murmuring, "Sweetheart, I'm going to make enough of a mess of you tonight as it is, we don't need you adding to it," softly against his thigh. Park fucking  _ moans _ then,  and Elliott can feel his teeth just  _ aching _ to tear into that perfect skin. He shudders, eyes drifting to the hacker's pretty face, and Park's lips are parted and gasping.  _ So fucking pretty, _ Elliott thinks distantly.

And then he bites down.

Gently, at first, and Park can't help but curse, hands flying to Elliott's head, fingers twisting into his dark, curly hair. It's enough like getting his dick sucked that his hips make a few little aborted attempts at thrusts, until Elliott shifts, both hands moving to pin Park's slender hips to the bed. Park whines, and Elliott pulls back, mouth painted red, growling, "Don't want to hurt you," in a voice that's deep and rough and almost inhuman, Park's blood staining his teeth.

He licks his lips and dives back down, lapping and sucking at the fresh wound while Park tries and fails to squirm in his grip, desperate to get some friction on his aching cock, but finding his hips pinned to the bed by the supernatural strength of the man between his thighs. 

By the time Elliott's had his fill, the only blood left in Park's body is in his cock, which has been twitching and leaking and fucking  _ throbbing _ since Elliott first put his mouth on him, and Park's dizzy and lightheaded and so  _ desperate _ for it that when Elliott drags his bottom lip up the curve of his cock, that's all it takes -- Park instantly cums with a shout, spilling all over the trickster's handsome face, then promptly blacking out.

They'll learn later that restoring fluids is very important for these sessions.

\---------------

Elliott has cleaned the kid up (and himself…), forced him to eat and drink something, and tucked him into clean sheets. Park hasn't said more than one or two words at a time since waking up from their feeding session, but the lazy smile he's had on his face ever since tells Elliott all he needs to know. 

Watching Park drift off to sleep is a gift Elliott hadn't expected to receive, but one he cherishes all the same. It's the first time Elliott has ever seen the man fully relaxed, brain not working overtime, projected AR interface concealed behind drooping lids and long lashes. After bandaging up the fresh wound on Park's thigh and making absolutely sure the bleeding has stopped, Elliott pulls the blankets of Park's bed across his dozing form. Then, on a whim, he leans forward, reaching out and gently brushing back the kid's hair, expecting to catch an elbow to the ribs at any moment. 

But whether Park doesn't notice, doesn't mind, or just doesn't have the strength to make Elliott stop, he allows it, only reacting to the contact with a soft hum. So Elliott continues stroking his face and hair until the his breathing evens out, and exhaustion finally takes over. The trickster couldn't help but smile then, leaning over again to press a soft kiss to his forehead with a murmured  _ thank you _ against his dark hair. Then, as quietly as he could, he stood up from the bed and quietly made his way towards the door.

\----------------

The kid was fine, or  _ he _ thought he was fine, at least. 

Elliott, however, was  _ not _ fine. Elliott was a fucking mess. He was a  _ monster. _

Back in his own quarters, his mind reels with guilt. 

_ Park trusts you! He's keeping your terrible secret and saving your stupid fucking life and sharing his literal lifeblood with you, and what do you do? Bleed him out and suck him dry like the monster you are, fucking hurt him and incapacitate him and then, because that's not enough, you take advantage of him, because you're sick, Witt. You're a monster. _

Elliott felt terrible, in part because he  _ didn't _ feel terrible. Physically, he felt  _ amazing. _ Park's blood had restored him to health and then some, but the guilt that came from knowing he was benefitting from Park's physical suffering was overwhelming. Hell, he'd gone beyond benefitting from it -- he was  _ getting off _ on it. Watching Park cry out in pain under his mouth had made him instantly hard, and pinning the hacker's hips to the bed as he'd tried to squirm away had been fucking  _ hot,  _ and tasting him,  _ fuck, _ tasting his blood and his cock and his cum while he cried out,  _ "Please!" _ in that desperate little whisper had made Elliott nearly lose control of himself. 

He dropped to the bed, head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. This was getting out of control. Hell, it was  _ already _ out of control, it had been that way from the start. There was no way he could keep feeding from Park while fantasizing about him like this. No fucking way. It wasn't fair to Park -- hell, it wasn't fair to  _ him.  _

It really, really,  _ really _ wasn't fair to him. He was still hard from the feeding session, fangs only just beginning to retract, heart still pounding. His appetite for blood was, for the moment, satiated. But his appetite for Park? Fuck, he was  _ starving. _

_ Get ahold of yourself, Witt! _ he thought desperately, trying to snap himself out of it.  _ This isn't the first time you've wanted something you can't have. Tale as old as time. If everyone had to wait for someone else to get them off, the universe would cease to function. It's why people have hands, for fuck's sake. _

What most people  _ don't _ have, however, are decoys who are willing to help them out.

Elliott was no stranger to fucking himself. Well, fucking  _ himselves _ , really. You might even call him an expert on self-love. People thought the decoys were just carbon copies, all exactly alike, but they couldn't be more wrong. Each decoy was a part of him, a different facet of his personality, and each of them was unique. One -- the one most like the Elliott his fellow legends know -- is charismatic, outgoing, overly-flirtatious. Another is rather shy, quiet, keeps to himself, almost like Park. Yet another is brave, fearless, never daunted or scared in the ring. One's creative, both on and off the battlefield -- always thinking outside the box to find a unique solution. There's the one who possesses his engineering prowess, whom he'll send running across a field to defuse one of Natalie's Tesla traps when the real Elliott is busy elsewhere. There's the one who's afraid of everything, his own shadow included.

And then there's the mean one.

The one who has a certain...wickedness about him that goes far deeper than Elliott's mischievous streak. The one who houses every ounce of self-hatred, every insecurity, every mean impulse Elliott's ever had towards himself, or anyone else.

But mostly himself.

The mean one doesn't come out to play very often. Mainly because he overwhelmingly dislikes Elliott, and the feeling is fucking mutual. But tonight, he's exactly who Elliott needs --  _ what _ Elliott needs. He's punishment.

"Oh  _ darling, _ it's been so long. What's the occasion? Lose another lover 'cause you can't keep it in your pants?" the decoy purrs devilishly into Elliott's ear, voice lilting and arms slipping around his waist from behind, pulling him close.

"Something like that," Elliot mumbles, eyes cast downward, cheeks reddening as the decoy unzips the trickster's jumpsuit, shucking it down off his shoulders with such sudden force that Elliott whimpers when his skin meets the air. The suit hangs loosely around his hips -- loose enough for the decoy to slip his hand into Elliott's boxers, wrapping a hand around his painfully-hard cock and giving him a few teasing strokes.

Elliott groans at the contact, unable to keep from thrusting into the decoy's practiced grip.

"Eager little slut," the Mirage hisses from behind him, lips brushing against Elliott's throat, licking over the painful puncture wounds that still haven't fully healed. Elliott sucks in air at the sudden pain, and the decoy smiles against his skin. 

"Too bad you're so greedy, if you had behaved yourself I  _ might _ have even let you cum," the decoy murmurs, pumping Elliott's cock harder and eliciting another pathetic whine. "But you don't deserve to cum, do you?" 

Elliott shook his head wordlessly, still looking at the floor and beginning to tremble.  _ Please, please...  _

"Not after what you did to that poor boy,  _ using _ him like that. You're such a selfish little shit, Witt. You always have been." 

Elliott nods, feeling his eyes begin to well up with tears.

The decoy scoffs, "Pathetic. I think what you need tonight is a little taste of your own medicine, don't you?"

"Y-yes…" Elliott says softly, submissively. 

_ "Mmm, _ yes indeed. You don't deserve to cum," the decoy coos again, before roughly shoving Elliott to his knees and seizing a handful of his hair, forcing him to make eye contact. "You deserve to be  _ used." _

Elliott whimpers, staring up at himself, unable to stop the tears from falling.

"Oh it's alright, dear. It's not  _ all _ bad," the decoy smirks down at him, tightening his grip on Elliott's hair and working to free his own cock from his suit. "You look awfully lovely when you cry, and you're not  _ completely _ useless -- I'm sure we can find some work for that pretty little mouth of yours, it's always been our best feature…"

Elliott gasps when Mirage slaps him sharply across the face, letting go of his hair in favor of pinching his jaw and forcing his mouth open. The decoy leans down close, inches from his face, and Elliott tastes blood. His own.

The decoy can  _ smell _ it.

_ "Oh," _ it breathes, sounding almost delighted as it feels its fangs descend for the first time. Running a finger across the sharp points, the decoy meets Elliott's gaze with a wicked grin. "We're going to have such  _ fun _ with these…"

Elliott shudders at the thought.

"Too bad you can't keep that greedy little mouth to yourself. Since you  _ insist _ on putting it where it doesn't belong, I think it's time we taught it a lesson." Mirage sneers, before spitting in Elliott's open mouth and forcing it closed again. "Swallow."

Elliott swallows.

"I'd call you a good boy, but we both know that isn't true, don't we?" 

Elliott's shaking, but he nods.

The decoy chuckles softly, dangerously. He's caressing Elliott's jaw, thumb ghosting over his freshly-split lip and gently smearing the blood down onto his chin.  _ Too _ gently. It's not affection.

It's a warning.

And then his fingers are tangled in Elliott's hair, yanking hard, and when Elliott gasps, the decoy takes the opportunity to fill his mouth with cock, bottoming out in the back of his throat with a wanton moan, the palm of his other hand pressed against Elliott's neck, feeling it bulge as he thrusts deep.

Elliott gags, the tears running freely now as he forces his throat to relax to accommodate his own girth. The decoy is moaning, head thrown back, hips jerking forward, hand still tangled in Elliott's hair. Elliott swallows around his cock, and the decoy shudders, gasping,

_ "Fuck, _ that tight little throat is all mine tonight.  _ Mine." _ He punctuates the statement with a rough thrust into Elliott's aching throat, laughing cruelly when Elliott moans.

"Desperate little slut. Look at you, moaning around your own cock like the whore that you are. This is what you wanted earlier, isn't it? You wanted your little boyfriend to fuck your pretty mouth but he  _ couldn't, _ could he? He was too busy fainting and bleeding out on his sheets because he let a monster into his bed, and it nearly ate him alive. And you? You  _ loved _ it, every filthy second of it."

Elliott is sobbing now, tears and saliva mixing with the blood from his swollen lip and dripping down his chin as the decoy's thrusting grows erratic, rhythm growing sloppy as he nears his peak.

"Shit, just like that,  _ yesssss _ …" Mirage is groaning, eyes rolling back in his head, lost in the pleasure of Elliott's throat. "Fuck! Oh  _ fuck, _ don't stop, right there, I'm gonna fucking  _ ruin _ that pretty little mouth, god-- _ fuck!" _

The decoy's hips stutter and then stall as his cock pulses on Elliott's tongue, painting the back of his throat with spurts of cum, the decoy moaning with each wave of pleasure.

Elliott swallows it all, everything, tongue stroking over the hologram's cock until he shudders with overstimulation and yanks Elliott's mouth off him, gasping for breath.

Looking down at him, the decoy smiles deviously, cruelly nudging Elliott's still-hard cock with the toe of his boot and eliciting a needy little whimper.

"It's a real shame, you know? He'd have probably returned the favor if you'd just asked permission before you put that greedy little mouth on him like that." 

Elliott can't meet his own gaze.

Mirage laughs again, wiping his wet cock off on Elliott's cheek. "And if you didn't nearly kill him first, I mean." 

Elliott's eyes were welling up with tears again, because he was  _ right,  _ and Elliott knew it. The decoy pinched his jaw again, leaning in close and forcing Elliott to meet his eyes. His voice was pure wickedness, hot breath puffing against Elliott's ear when he spoke.

"But you  _ did, _ didn't you? You couldn't stop yourself," he breathed, low and dangerous, "Because the truth is, Elliott Witt doesn't care about anyone but Elliott Witt. The truth is, Elliott Witt isn't  _ just _ a selfish whore," he paused, nuzzling Elliott's neck. "The truth is, he's a fucking  _ monster." _

Elliott was trembling, he could  _ feel _ the bastard grinning against his cheek as he finished speaking.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, the decoy pressed a single chaste kiss against Elliott's cheek, whispering, "Until next time, darling," before he flickered out of existence, disappearing back into the holo-tech with another peal of mocking laughter.

Elliott was still kneeling, tear-stained cheeks flushed red -- both with shame, and from the impact of Mirage's palm against his face. He forced himself to swallow a sob and wiped the blood from his chin, though it still stained his beard. Slowly he got to his feet, breath hitching and shoulders still shaking. He kicked the holosuit the rest of the way off and stumbled, naked, into his bed.

But even wrapped in the blankets, he's still trembling. He could manifest the flirty decoy to tend to his neglected cock, or summon the shy, sweet one to climb into bed with him, hold him close, stroke his hair as he falls asleep, provide some aftercare.

But he doesn't do any of those things.

Instead, he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the blankets tighter around him, willing away the hiccups and sobs still wracking his frame as he waits for the sweet escape of slumber.

_ Monsters don't deserve to cum. _

And they damn sure don't deserve aftercare.

\------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible to sue a gaming company for emotional damages? Asking for a friend.
> 
> Working on getting ahold of a laptop so I can crank this trash out even faster. In the meantime, bear with me. Editing 16k+ word fics on a shitty Android takes a while.
> 
> Anyway, I promise the vampire dream!sex is coming, but first I just had to steal the whole "self-cest with a mean decoy" thing from @romanticallyinept because, like our holographic hero, I too am a fuckin' monster.
> 
> Send help. Preferably in the form of Apex Coins, and/or encouraging comments. 
> 
> ...I'm gonna go pass out now because I've been writing this trash for 10 hours straight.


	5. Drinking Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Witt, get out of there!" He's almost to the door.
> 
> "I'm down!" Witt whines back over the comms.
> 
> "Then _crawl_ out!" Witt is invisible, but he isn't invincible like this, he can still get killed. Park has no idea where he is, and he'd really prefer not to hit him with the incendiary grenade he's about to fling through the window. An EMP, sure, but those thermite grenades _hurt._
> 
> _Please move, Elliott!_
> 
> \--------------------
> 
> Renee investigates the Shadow dimension. Elliott goes to a bar with a very big fan. Crypto realizes that everybody needs a solid wingman once in a while -- both in and out of the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the issues with formatting when I first posted this! Editing this bad boy on AO3's mobile text editor is rough.
> 
> Quick TW: There are a couple references to past abuse/rape in this chapter but it doesn't go into detail and I'm praying the end will make up for any potential distress this causes my dear readers, so don't feel bad if you need to skip a paragraph or two.
> 
> This chapter is so long and this fic has gotten so out of control and I'm not even the tiniest bit sorry, y'all.
> 
> Also Renee is wearing the Airship Assassin skin in this chapter, if you were wondering.
> 
> Also I don't know dick about anything as far as Korean culture goes so I am just Googling and making shit up. Feel free to correct me on stuff!

** _It's been days, Park. You got anything yet? _ **

The message is the first thing Tae Joon sees when he opens his eyes, the text projected urgently across his line of sight by his optical implant. He forces himself to keep his eyes open -- it's the third time his alarm has dragged him into consciousness, he needs to _ get up _ but he can't will himself into a vertical position. He was fucking _ exhausted, _tired in a way he almost never was. The kind of tired that even his constant paranoid vigilance couldn't allow him to ignore. 

Still groggy and rubbing at his artificially enhanced eye, he only found the strength to drag himself from the bed when his alarm started blaring again, for the fourth time that morning. Or night. Or whatever the hell they called morning time here in the Shadow realm. 

Two more days of this unpleasant bullshit, then onto some new, slightly-less-unpleasant bullshit: duos had been announced and Shadowfall was finally coming to an end. If he could stay awake and functional for at least 30 of the next 48 hours and not give into the temptation to find a dark corner of the arena -- anywhere but in that _ fucking cave _\-- and take a mid-match nap, well, that would be ideal. 

He was drained -- mentally, physically, _ literally _(in multiple ways...) and wanted nothing more than to spend the entire day horizontal, preferably deep in a dreamless sleep. The exhaustion hadn't come as a total surprise, but he hadn't expected it to be this intense -- the morning after a night with Witt was starting to feel like a bad hangover. 

Even worse, he _ loved _ it. Not the tiredness, but the...manner in which it was acquired. _ That mouth, those teeth. _He was practically doing it to himself, forcing Witt to-- to-- 

_ Jenjang! _ he cursed in his head, _ What is wrong with you? He's _ sick _ , and you left him with no choice and now you've got him... _ doing _ things...that the poor idiot shouldn't have to do, in his compromised state. You're a monster, Park. _

It had to stop, it wasn't right. Witt had already been attacked by him once -- well, not really _ him _ , but something that _ looked _like him -- and the poor guy didn't deserve to deal with his food trying to fuck him, too. 

Because that _ was _ going to happen, if Park didn't put a stop to it, right-the-fuck-now _ . _ It had almost happened the night before -- it _ would _ have if Witt hadn't drained all the energy (and cum, _ fuck _ ) out of him first. He'd wanted to wrench the poor guy's mouth from his thigh, wanted to taste his own blood on Witt's lips, wanted to make the man moan from something _ besides _the taste of blood, wanted to pin him to the mattress and fucking-- 

** _Final warning, Park. If I have to come find you, you're gonna wish I hadn't. _ **

He groaned. _ Fuck. _ He'd been ignoring Renee's messages for days now, avoiding her on the ship and in the ring as much as possible. What the fuck was he supposed to say, _ 'Don't worry, I've got it handled. I'm his human blood bag now, it's fine.'? _ Yeah, _ no. _Not happening. 

He knew he should reply, say _ something _ , but saying something would require that he actually _ have _something to say, which he did not. At least, nothing Wraith would be happy to hear, anyway. 

Flicking her messages out of his face, his thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Just thinking about it was making him hard, and he flushed with shame when he remembered the needy state he'd been in the night before -- whining and shaking and wound so fucking tight that he'd erupted from a single touch of the trickster's sweet lips. Fuck, he hated the idea that Witt had felt obligated to...do something like that, to repay him. It made him feel sick with guilt -- guilt that was only intensified by the white-hot lust that was still coiling in his belly, burning him up from the inside out, the fire raging steadily inside him ever since his encounter with the Shadow. 

And the night before -- something _ had _ to be wrong with him for taking his clothes off like that when he knew damn well that Witt's mouth being anywhere near him made him rock hard. It had the first time he'd let Witt feed, but that was forgivable, neither of them had known what to expect that first time. But the second time, with his skin bared and his dick leaking and hard and right in Witt's face, while the starving man was just trying to get some dinner -- _ that _ had not been acceptable. _ That _there was no excuse for. 

And it had to stop. 

He padded across his bedroom floor on bare feet, stepping into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. Whoever was looking back at him, reflected in the glass, it wasn't Park Tae Joon. It hadn't been for a long, long time. 

He unwrapped his bandaged thigh, chest constricting when he quite suddenly recalled just exactly what had happened as he'd fallen asleep. He hated that Witt had felt obligated to do any of that, too -- he'd cleaned up the mess Park had made all over both of them, bandaged him up, fucking fed him a snack and taken all this responsibility for things that weren't his problem to worry about, _ why? _

And he'd _ stayed. _For a while, anyway. Park wasn't sure exactly when he'd fallen asleep, but the trickster had been there, stroking his hair, for an indeterminate amount of time, and he knew because it was the last thing he remembered before drifting off. 

He wasn't sure why, but a part of him had been a little disappointed to wake up alone. Which was stupid. Incredibly stupid. _ Dangerous. _When you're being hunted by mercenaries and framed for murder, alone is the only way you want to wake up. If you wake up and someone is there next to you, you're probably about to be killed. 

Or they are, for associating with you. For meaning something to you. He shuddered at the idea, the very thought of Witt being leveraged against him like that sent a freezing bolt of fear shooting through his abdomen. 

_ No. Nobody else dies because you care about them. This is why you went off the grid to begin with, idiot. Collect yourself, for fuck's sake. _

He shook his head, furious at himself. He'd been playing with fire the moment he let Witt touch him, he was going to get fucking burned if he didn't stop soon. No, _ now. _

Stepping under the warm spray of the shower, Tae Joon couldn't decide what he hated more: what he'd done to Witt, or what he'd let Witt do for him in return. 

Or the fact that he'd loved every last second of all of it. 

Or the fact that just recalling the previous evening's events had him getting this hard this quickly, unable to resist stroking himself to the thought of Witt's wicked, terrible, _ wonderful _mouth on him, and already embarrassingly close to cumming all over the steamed-up glass of the shower's sliding door. 

_ Fuck _. 

Yeah, probably that last one. 

\----------------- 

Elliott was in the cave, leaning back against the rock wall, breathing heavily, and trying not to moan. He couldn't remember exactly how they'd come to be there, or for what purpose...but the succulent, sinful display before him seemed as good a reason as any. His fingers were buried in the hair of the man who was kneeling at his feet, sucking him off. 

_ Fuck. _Elliott wasn't sure what he'd expected, but the feeling of Park's soft lips wrapped around his cock was somehow even better than he'd imagined, and so overwhelming that it was becoming difficult to remain standing. 

"God, baby. Just like that, _ fuck. _ You feel so fucking good-- _ ah!-- _ s-so fucking perfect, _ nghhh, _ oh my _ god-- _" Elliott's head thunked painfully back against the cave wall, eyes slamming shut, gasping as Park took him deep into his throat and swallowed around his cock in a way that made Elliott feel like he was going to lose his already-tenuous grasp on relative sanity any second now. 

Park pulls his mouth off him entirely for a moment, those pretty lips coming off the head of his cock with a pop, and Elliott nearly sobs at the loss of contact. Looking incredibly pleased with himself, Park gives Elliott's cock a few slow, teasing jerks, and then swallows him down again, and Elliott is so fucking desperate for it, he can't help but tighten his grip in Park's hair and begin to thrust weakly into his throat. 

_ Please, god, please--let me--just let me-- _

Park is taking him deep, his nose rubbing against Elliott's lower stomach, lips pressed flush against his hips, tongue snaking out every now and then to lick against the seam of his balls. Park's mouth is small and Elliott is thick enough that some of Park's teeth scrape lightly against his dick with each thrust, but he doesn't care -- it feels fucking amazing. Park has both cool hands trying to pin Elliott's hips back against the cave wall, fingernails digging into the skin beneath them and making Elliott whimper with each pass of his lips. 

Elliott's so close now and he's been waiting _ so long. _ He hasn't gotten to cum since the night he was bitten, but that feels like it was forever ago. He wants it so bad -- not just to cum, no -- he wants _ Park, _ wants _ him _so fucking bad, wants to let him have his way, let him take whatever he wants, as long as Elliott gets to cum, that's all that matters. He needs the release like he needs oxygen. 

"Please, I need it, I c-can't_\--please, _d-don't stop..." Elliott's cock is twitching, eyes brimming with pleasured tears. 

Park's been bobbing up and down on his throbbing dick, occasionally swiping his tongue over the leaking tip, and Elliott can barely take it anymore. His head is still thrown back, eyes shut tight, neck exposed as he gasps and groans at the ministrations of Park's devilish tongue. 

_ "Mmmmgh, _ you're so perfect like this, baby. So fucking good for me on your knees. Are you--_shit _ \--gonna m-make me cum for you, _ hmmm? _Gonna make me blow a load all over those pretty pink lips? God, 'cause I'm fucking going to, sweetheart, if you k-keep doing that thing with your tongue, _ fuck..." _

Beneath him, Park responds by taking Elliott's cock as deep into his throat as it'll go, and then he's fucking _ moaning _ around it, and the feeling and sound of it all is too much, too good, _ so good _ that before he can stop it, Elliott's cumming and letting out the most pathetic little cry as he does, because when he opens his eyes, when he looks down to watch his lover catch his orgasm in that wicked mouth, to watch him lick every drop of Elliott's seed from those pouty lips, _ it's not Park _he sees kneeling before him -- it's the blue-eyed monster who bit him in this very cave. 

Elliott's heart stops, but his orgasm doesn't. Despite the shock, he just can't help himself when the waves of pleasure crash over him -- he fists the creature's hair tighter, pulling him back so Elliott can watch as he paints that beautiful face with his cum. And _ fuck_, what a sight: those piercing blue eyes gazing up at him with an expression of desperation, of unrepentant _ need_, like the man can't live without this, his tongue darting out to catch every drop of Elliott it can reach and still straining to get closer, to get as much of him in his mouth as possible, desperate to be close enough to the legend's cock to ensure that his lips and chin and fangs are fucking _ dripping _with Elliott's cum when he's finished. 

\--

Elliott jolts awake, alone in his bed, fangs out, gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat. 

Then he pushes the blankets away from his legs, realizing sweat isn't the _ only _thing he's drenched in. 

\------------- 

Park realizes someone has been in his room the second he steps back into it, before he's even finished drying off from the shower. 

"Jee?" he calls out, before realizing the drone is still in sleep mode, nestled into its charging dock. He feels a little silly, because there's no concrete proof someone was there. Just a strange tingling feeling in his chest, like he's being watched by unseen eyes. 

_ You're just being paranoid, get it together. _

Towel wrapped around his waist, he activates his robotic companion through the neural link they share, ordering it to stand by. The little drone chirps in the affirmative, zooming over to a corner to begin a scan of the bedroom. 

Park's leaning over his desk, only just noticing that some of the items lying on it have been disturbed, when it happens. 

A familiar _ woosh-zrrrrp _sound heralds the opening of a portal behind him, and he turns to see the deep blue edges of the oval crackling with Void energy. 

_ Oh shit. _

Renee comes storming out of it a half a second later, and before Tae Joon can even process what he's seeing -- let alone react to it -- she's got him pinned against his bedroom wall by his throat, kunai blade threatening to slice it open. 

Jee zooms toward them, and Park is bracing for the EMP blast to hit them both. But it doesn't, because the second it's close enough, the blade at his throat is being flung upwards and to the side, lodging itself into the center of his drone and knocking it out of the air on impact. Jee crashes to the floor, little bolts of electricity arcing between it and the metal knife and causing a puff of smoke to rise from the spot where it crashed. The drone had seen worse days than this, and was quite easily repaired, but the slight sizzling sound coming out of his wrecked robot friend did make him a little nervous. _ Hope that's not the motherboard frying. _

Wraith hadn't even broken eye contact with him when she took out his drone, blindly whipping her knife in its direction with perfect accuracy. It would have been impressive if it weren't also fucking terrifying. 

"Hey, _ asshole," _she says with a dangerous smirk, tightening her grip and making his vision start to go all fuzzy around the edges from lack of oxygen. "We need to talk." 

\------

"What are you hiding from me? _ Tell me." _The "or else" is implied. 

"I am not hid--" 

"BULLSHIT," she interrupts loudly. "Tell me what happened when you followed him, _ now." _

"I told you, I haven't had--" he's cut off when she shoves him down on his bed. 

It seems she only just noticed Park isn't wearing any clothes, just gripping the towel to keep it from slipping from his waist. Jee is down. He doesn't have a gun. His knife's in his boots, but he's not wearing them. He's exposed -- vulnerable -- and it's actually kind of scary. 

He stares, still in shock, when she turns to Jee, bending momentarily to pluck her knife from where it was wedged in his fried drone. 

When she turns back to face him, her face is a mask of rage. She's surprisingly strong for 5'2, and Park is pretty sure he'll have bruises around his throat tomorrow from her nearly squeezing the life out of him with that deceptively-petite hand. 

She's back in his space now, just not as close. Standing over him menacingly, she leans forward, just barely letting the tip of the blade catch on the skin of the left side of his chest, a little below his collarbone, like she has half a mind to carve out his heart. He swallows. 

"You might find this surprising, Park, but I don't make friends easily. Don't play well with others. But I'm a live-and-let-live kinda gal. I'm not into interfering with other people's lives, not unless I have to," she narrowed her eyes, "And you're making it so I have to. Witt is my _ friend_, Park. And I really, _really _don't appreciate people fucking with my friends. That's why I came to you, actually. Thought somebody was hurting one of my friends, thought maybe you could help me out. Since you've obviously changed your mind, I just thought I'd drop in, give you a little message." 

Park shrank back against the bed as she leaned in even closer, one knee now resting on the mattress for balance, the point of the blade digging painfully into his chest. When she spoke again, her voice was downright predatory. 

"The message is this: I don't know what your fucking deal is, Park, and I really don't care. What I _ do _ care about is Elliott. If you won't tell me what's going on, I'm not going to make you," she twisted the knife slightly, finally breaking through the skin and making him grimace as he began to doubt her previous statement. He felt a single drop of blood roll down the side of his ribcage, and watched as her eyes followed it down before they snapped back to his face and she continued, "But hear me when I say that if you hurt him, if you are in _ any _ way involved in hurting him, if you so much as harm a single, perfect hair on that over-inflated, idiot head of his, I will fucking _ end _you, Park. Do you understand?" 

Park was pretty sure he understood, but for some reason his mouth wasn't working at that particular moment, and when he didn't answer she hissed again, "Do. You. Under. Stand? I will make you _ wish _ you were dead, Park. If I find out you had something to do with whatever is going on, whatever did this to Elliott, I will fucking destroy you. If--no, _ when _ I find out what you two are hiding from me, if you have hurt him at all, the things I will do to you will have you fucking _ begging _for the sweet mercy of death's embrace. You got all that, or do you need me to say it again for the camera?" she nods in the crumpled drone's direction, twisting the knife again to emphasize that last part and making him hiss at the pain. 

He shook his head. _ Definitely not gonna need you to do that. _

"Good," she held his gaze for another moment before withdrawing her blade, wiping it on his sheets, turning on her heel, and heading to the door. She paused there, turned her head to the side, and added, "By the way, I took the liberty of removing my phase tech schematics from your devices," she gestured to his desk, where he'd first been tipped off to her presence when he saw it had been rifled through. "I only share that kind of intel with people who would do the same. People I call _ friends_. You understand." Her words are meant to sting, and they do. 

And just like that -- evidently deciding to forgo the door, again -- she snapped out of the room in a brilliant flash of Void energy. 

Park let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, letting himself go limp on the bed. 

_ That's what you get for ignoring her messages, dangsin-eun babo! _

He cursed himself. Why hadn't he just made something up, said Witt was just going out at night to get some air? Hell, she would obviously be willing to help, why hadn't he just told her the truth about Witt? For that matter, why hadn't _Witt_ told her? 

He sighed with frustration, dragging himself out of bed for the second time that day and carefully collecting the pieces of his wrecked drone. Still wrapped in the towel, he took a seat at his desk and fired up the 3D printer, feeding the end of some white plastic filament into the machine. _ At least this will be an easy fix, _he thought sarcastically, pulling his soldering kit out of his backpack. 

\---------------------- 

This probably wasn't exactly what her therapist had in mind when he'd told her she should "embrace the anger." Things had gotten a little...stabby...there towards the end. Park had looked downright terrified. 

_ Good_. He had it coming, the little punk. 

_ Probably should have knocked first though, _ she thinks, _ Oops. _

But there wasn't time to worry about Park. She was more worried about Elliott. And she'd noticed something odd during the last few matches -- for some reason, Elliott wouldn't go anywhere near the caves of King's Canyon. Elliott had always been a scaredy cat deep down, but that had never kept him out of the caves on Solace. She thought she had imagined it at first, thought perhaps he hadn't seen her, or had heard a Shadow lurking nearby, or maybe he just didn't feel like giving chase when he saw her run into the cave during a match earlier that week -- he did look awfully tired lately. But it was weird that he hadn't sent a decoy running in after her, at the very least. 

It was even weirder when he'd just stood there taking damage as the ring closed over the cave, almost like he'd rather let it kill him than risk going inside. He'd lost the match to her because of it. Then, a few games later, Park did the exact same thing. Well, almost. He'd at least tried to go around the outside, but he couldn't outrun the ring. There had been a safe path right in front of both Elliott and Park, and neither of them had taken it. 

Just a poorly-made, split-second decision made under the pressure of a rapidly-closing ring? Maybe. 

_ Or maybe there's something up with that cave. _

She'd been inside plenty of times herself over the last month and nothing particularly tragic had happened. Though there had been a single strange incident: her voices had been triggered once, while she was inside -- but when she turned around to face the enemy, no one was there. 

It could have been a passing glance from someone running by outside. Or maybe it had been Park's drone, hovering just out of earshot. But Anita had just cleared the cave only moments before, and come in over the comms telling all remaining legends that the path through it was safe for the time being. 

Renee had looked, too. There hadn't been much time, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. 

Nothing. Nada. Not even a Shadow. 

Curiosity was getting the better of her now, too, as she peered into the pitch blackness of the canyon -- which was twice as dark as normal, because it was one o'clock in the morning, and all the banners and arena lights the Syndicate had installed for the Shadowfall games were turned off for the evening. Tomorrow would be the last day of the event. 

She'd worn her black and gold suit -- her favorite -- hoping it might help camouflage her when she snuck out of the dropship, dropping into a King's Canyon so dark her skydive trail was glowing, and armed with only the kunai blade. 

She had chosen the dark outfit hoping maybe she could blend in with the Shadows, or at least not alert too many to her presence. 

The moment her boots touched the ground, she realized she was making a mistake. 

If the Shadows got her, she wasn't going to respawn on the dropship, because the dropship _ didn't fucking know she was down there_. 

Park was right. The ship's A.I. _ did _suck. 

But despite the danger, she wasn't going back. Not yet. Because the fact that this was so dangerous made it _ even weirder _that Elliott had been out there almost every single night until quite recently. Even the candles that lit the wooden houses during matches were extinguished. 

_ What the hell were you doing down here, Elliott? _

And if the dark didn't scare him, what the hell was in the cave that _ did? _

She suddenly remembered she had a glowing ball of Void energy fizzling around her left forearm, and that it was the only light for meters and meters, and that the sound she made when she snapped into the Void was so damn loud that she was almost definitely fucked if she tried to do so. 

_ Well, too late now. _

\---

"Ugh, why are you so gross?" 

She couldn't help but say it aloud because this was the third Shadow she been forced to kill up close with her knife, and that orangey, glowing blood of theirs was all over her favorite bodysuit and now she was glowing and orangey, too. 

All three Shadows had been shaped like her, which was sort of reassuring, in a way -- it was evidence that she was likely the only person nearby for the shape-shifters to imitate. 

It was also unnerving as actual fuck. She'd had to slit their throats to finish the job and it had been so much worse than taking them down with a gun like she could in a match. One can really only stab oneself to death so many times before it starts to get a _ little bit weird. _

She'd decided to rinse off in the water under the smashed bridge, only just realizing that part of the reason it seemed so damn dark was because there wasn't a flyer in sight, and the leviathans that normally towered over this part of the island were posted way out in the ocean again. 

_ Huh, strange. _

Looking up from the shallow stream, she was just about to turn back to go check out Repulsor first when something caught her eye. 

A light. It was flickering. 

And it was coming from _ inside the cave. _

\-----

"So is Park in love with you, or what?" 

Elliott choked into his water bottle. _ "What?" _

"I mean, he's the only other pretty boy on the ship. He's your competition." Makoa was joking. _ Thank fuck_. 

Natalie turned around to shush them. "I'm trying to hear zem announce ze teams!" 

"Fuck you too, amigo." Octavio was clearly offended. "I'm pretty." 

"You hardly ever take off the mask, bruddah! How are we supposed to know?" Makoa teased. 

Elliott laughed. It was so nice to just feel...normal again. 

_ Well, sort of normal. Normal-er. Normal-ish. Except for the whole blood-sucking thing. _

At least he could actually focus on the games again, instead of spending every match hungry and tortured by the scent of blood. 

"No, seriously, he's always staring at you. For the entire match. Even when you're not on his team. I'm callin' it now, bruddah. By Christmas he'll have either killed you or kissed you." Maybe the big man isn't joking, after all. 

"Don't bet on it." Elliott whisper-yells back, stealing a glance at the hacker. He was thankfully out of earshot. 

Natalie whipped back around with a finger to her lips. "Shhh!" 

They're waiting for the drop, trying to hear who gets teamed up with who for duos over the ship's screaming engine. And Elliott is absolutely, totally, one-hundred percent fine, really. He is. He's not sweating and shivering and suffering through every match while trying to contain his bloodlust, because Park has kept up his end of the deal. Everything is fine, really. It is. 

Except it's not, because Park hasn't talked to him in two weeks. And he's been leaving those stupid, stolen bloodbags in Elliott's locker twice a week, which is somehow worse than not leaving anything at all. 

The first one had a note. 

_ Sorry. Busy. _

The rest of them didn't. 

_ Busy doing what, living ten feet from my front door? _Elliott had thought, feeling like absolute shit. 

And then his _ "Hey, are we gonna talk about this?" _text gets left on 'read.' Which is worse. Because Elliott knows he deserves it, just like he deserves the painful bite on his throat. The new one. 

The one his own decoy had given him the night before, when it woke him up in the middle of the night, having manifested itself while he was asleep. It had been a long day, and he'd fallen asleep in the holosuit. 

That had been a mistake. 

Because when he woke up to his own voice hissing terrible things in his ear and pinning him under its weight he just didn't have it in him to fight. He just...let it happen. 

And when it had moaned and sank its fangs in his throat -- right next to the vampire's bite, which had _ just _started healing -- he had deserved that, too. 

It scared him, though, because that kind of thing had only happened once before, years ago. Sometimes he'd manifest one subconsciously, while asleep or distracted, but it was only ever to do some little task he'd been vaguely thinking he needed to get done, or to act out some random detail of a dream, and it never lasted very long. It had only been this bad one time, ever.

He rubbed at the scar over his eyebrow. 

Finally, his banner came up on the screen. 

He crossed his fingers. 

_ Wraith, Wraith, c'mon, give me Renee. _

Renee was being a total weirdo lately, though. She didn't even show up for the last day of the Shadowfall games, which just wasn't like her. She'd been avoiding him lately, too, but he hoped playing on the same team would dissolve some of the weirdness between them. 

The enormous screen above him shifted as the announcer read out the name of his team mate at the same instant that the ship's engine screeched so loudly that a few legends covered their ears, and somebody yelled "Jesus fuckin' _ Christ!" _ in a voice that sounded like Anita's. _ Does this ship have to be so fucking loud? _

Makoa elbowed him in the ribs with a look that told Elliott what he hadn't been able to hear, and he looked up just in time to see Park's banner flash across the screen. 

_ Fuck. My. Life. _

Stepping down into the drop platform, Elliott tries to keep his voice even when he asks, "Where we landing?" 

Park shrugs, doesn't even look at him. 

"Wherever." 

\----------------------- 

They've made it to the end of the match, but Tae Joon has been ready to kill him since round one. It's a shame that you can't actually hurt someone with friendly fire. _There's always Jee's EMP...that had seemed to get the point across before. _

"That was _ mine," _ Park snaps. The fucker just popped out of nowhere and opened the crate he'd been just about to loot, snatching something gold out of it with a mischievous, _"Yoink!" _

It was like Witt was _ trying _to get on his nerves. 

"Yeah, well, then you shoulda got here first, slowpoke!" 

Witt's just acting so...normal. It's annoying. He could at least have the decency to seem kind of bummed out. Like, half as bummed out as Tae Joon feels. 

_ Why would he be? He's Mirage, he's famous, he's gorgeous, and he can have anyone he wants. _That pretty blonde reporter he'd seen Witt flirting with the previous weekend was definitely proof he was handling things just fine. Things were back to normal. And that was a good thing. Right? 

_ Right. _

So why did it feel so fucking _ bad? _

Probably because he was sneaking around stealing bags of fucking blood for the guy still. And how could he not? He'd kind of insisted on helping him out there. And he really didn't mind it, even if Lifeline _ was _gonna kill him when she figured it out. 

He tapped his left temple, bringing up his AR display and inputting a reminder: 

_ Find alternate blood source. _

He briefly considers setting another reminder, one that says _ stop jerking off to Elliott fucking Witt, _but he doesn't add that one to the list. 

Buying stuff on the dark web was a huge asspain and not nearly as convenient as stealing said stuff from a room down the hall. It was also not nearly as enjoyable as having said stuff sucked out of your thigh by a ridiculously handsome man. Especially when it was something that was valuable, and only made by the human body, and needed to be refrigerated, and free of diseases, and-- 

"Gettin' shot at," Witt calls in over the comms, like he's surprised. "And they're hittin' me!" 

Park sighs. The trickster is at least a hundred meters away. 

_ Idiot. _

Sprinting towards the house Witt's looting, Park hears a peacekeeper firing rapidly, and the sound of something hissing as it fills with air. 

No, not air. _ Gas. _

_ Shit. _

He's pissed he's got such a garbage backpack because there are _ five _goddamn arc stars over where he's looting and he deeply wishes he could rain them down on the noxious motherfucker who is gassing his only team mate but there's no room, and even less time. 

The moment he approaches the house, there's an ominous _ clank-skkkkkrt _\-- the sound of metal on metal -- and now he's fucked, because before he can get to Witt, he's got to deal with the metallic monstrosity he just heard fire its grappling hook into something nearby. 

_ Seriously?! Nox AND the robot, great. Fantastic. _

It always feels a little wrong to fire a weapon at such a magnificent piece of robotic engineering, but Pathfinder has got to go. He's way too mobile and far too deadly to risk leaving alive. Or powered-on, or...whatever he technically is. 

Park gently tosses Jee into the air. "I need a distraction, quickly!" 

That peacekeeper is still firing so Witt is obviously still stuck in there with that gas, he has to hurry. 

Thankfully, Pathfinder takes the bait and tries to shoot the drone down, which gives Park the two seconds he needs to snag a headshot, hipfired with his kraber from ten meters away. 

The friendly robot goes down in a single shot, and his deathbox pops up after a second one. Jee lets out a sad beep. 

"You're supposed to be on _ my _team," Park grumbles. The drone chirps defensively. 

Then he hears the howl of the peacekeeper again and the unmistakable _ fwoop _of Witt being downed. 

_ Fuck. _

"Witt, get out of there!" He's almost to the door. 

"I'm down!" Witt whines back over the comms. 

"Then _ crawl _ out!" Witt is invisible, but he isn't invincible like this, he can still get killed. Park has no idea where he is, and he'd really prefer not to hit him with the incendiary grenade he's about to fling through the window. An EMP, sure, but those thermite grenades _ hurt. _

_ Please move, Elliott! _

_ Elliott_. He's not sure why that's the name that comes to mind instead of _ Witt _, but that's not a thought he can really afford to devote processing power to at the moment. 

Fire explodes across the floor, and thankfully doesn't hit Ell--hit _ Witt, _wherever he is, but it doesn't hit that big gas bastard either, which isn't great. 

Once he's in, he can see there's nobody on the first floor, but he _ knows _there's going to be a gas barrel waiting for him at the top of the stairs, so he can't go up that way. He sprints back outside. Jee still hasn't detected the enemy's presence, but Park knows he's lurking somewhere upstairs, because he can hear the footsteps on the second floor. Park climbs some stacked shipping crates and pulls himself onto the roof. Why the fuck did they have to land in Fuel Depot? Fuck this place, seriously. 

_ Because you let an idiot pick the LZ, idiot. _Oh. Right. 

He hoists himself over the sharp angle of the roof as quietly as he can, being very careful where he steps. Jee is hovering a few meters above his head. When he jumps down onto the second floor entrance, he can see that it's empty, too. 

_ What the fuck? Where-- _

Something flies in through the open door, and all of the windows on the second floor explode. 

That hazy, thick green gas is absolutely everywhere, all at once. It burns his throat, makes his eyes water, and it fucking _ hurts, _like he inhaled that thermite instead of throwing it. There's an open wound on his arm from an earlier fight, and it feels like someone has rubbed gochujang into it. His lungs are on fire but he can't get enough air in them to even cough, so he just chokes, staggering forward blindly. 

And then he's being shoved back against the wall so hard it's disorienting, dragged upwards by his throat until he's suspended so far up the wall his toes are only just brushing the floor. 

_ God damn, this guy is huge. _

When he meets Nox's acidic gaze -- and this _ is _ actually Alexander Nox, he's positive about that now -- he knows it's already over. Still, he activates the EMP in a desperate attempt to do _ something, _anything. The EMP blast hurts, too, when it crackles over his skin, but at least it's the kind of hurt that he's used to. 

Nox is used to it, too, apparently, because when it hits him he doesn't even flinch, just groans a little and lets his eyes fall shut -- almost like he _ likes _it. 

_ Ugh, gross... _

He's wishing Nox would just shoot him, for fuck's sake, but he knows that's not happening for another painful minute or two because the sick fuck obviously isn't there for the money, or the glory, or the fame -- he's in the Apex Games because they're the only legal outlet for his deep love of human suffering. The man has an obvious voyeurism fetish. Park's not judging too hard, because he kind of has one, too, but not...not like this. Nox is _ sick, _he's not even in it for the kill -- he's in it for the moment just before. He likes to drag it out as long as he can, likes to watch his victims squirm and gasp and beg for mercy, likes to watch the light leave their eyes as he draws out their suffering as much as humanly possible. 

And he can get away with it, too, because _ very _ few team mates are going to volunteer to run into a room that's so full of gas it's coming out the windows, stinging your eyes before you're even inside. They'll come sheepishly snag your banner once the creep is _ gone, _ of course (and they'll likely loot your deathbox, the fuckers), but _ nobody _goes up against Caustic alone if they can help it. Tae Joon has thankfully never had to, until this moment, but it was only a matter of time. Nox saw new legends as a sort of challenge, called them an "opportunity for research," and hunted them until he got what he wanted and earned himself a recurring role as the star of all their worst nightmares. 

The more you ran, the more ruthlessly he hunted you. And the longer you evaded him, the worse things got when he finally caught you. Because he always did, eventually. 

But he hadn't caught up with Park yet. 

Until now. 

The beast of a man tightens that enormous hand around his throat and growls, "Purple is such a lovely shade on you, Park." 

Park braces himself. _ This is going to be...very unpleasant... _

The pain is coming, and it's not going to be the kind he likes. 

Park is still determined not to give the mad scientist the satisfaction he craves, though. He's determined to die with a little bit of dignity. Or try to, anyway. 

Though the gas is beginning to dissipate, he's still choking and he's blinded by tears (from the _ gas, _ still, because he's definitely _ not _ crying.) But he's not going to beg. Not a fucking chance. That's what the madman _ wants, _and Park is not going to give it to him. 

That doesn't even matter, though. Blinking through the tears, he can see it in the bastard's eyes -- he's enjoying just watching Park suffer. The way he licks his lips while he watches the hacker's face slowly turn purple is enough to make him pray the end comes soon. 

And then Park is dead.

\-------

Well, he's pretty sure he's dead, because suddenly Elliott is running into the room, and that doesn't make _ any _ god damned sense because Elliott is _ downed. _

Nox turns and looks at Elliott -- clearly just as confused at his presence as Park is. And then he's let go of him to reach for that peacekeeper so he can blow Elliott's head off. 

Park slides down the wall and just sort of crumples at the man's feet, and he's willing himself to kick him, or something, but he can't, and it takes him a moment to realize it's because _ he's been downed, too. _Which doesn't make any sense, either, because there's no third team mate to come save the day, so how the fuck are he and Witt even existing in the room right now? 

_ Are there drugs in that gas? _

From the floor, he can see that the door on the opposite side of the small second-story room is open, and now someone else is coming into the room, except that someone else is _ also _Witt. 

_ Yeah, there are _ ** _definitely _ ** _ drugs in the gas. _

When their eyes meet, Witt gives him a mischievous wink and puts a finger to his lips. Park nods, because even though it's an obvious hallucination, it's kind of a nice one. And then Witt's just...gone. 

But then Park realizes that gas isn't filling the room anymore. And then he remembers the loot crate Witt stole from him earlier. 

Park had seen that glint of gold and figured it was a turbocharger because the idiot had snatched it out from under his nose so fast he couldn't get a good look...but it must have been a gold knockdown shield. 

_ Holy shit. Did he actually pull off a self-rez? _

Nox growls and blasts the first Witt in the face with his shotgun, and Elliott drops to the floor with a dramatic flourish. But there's no blood, and no death box, and then the real Elliott just appears behind Nox out of nowhere with that Wingman pressed up against the bastard's temple, and says "Boom, you're dead." 

And then he _ actually _ is. Blood paints the wall immediately to Park's right, and Nox slumps over -- sideways, _ thank god, _because otherwise he'd have landed on Park -- and then he crashes to the floor with a heavy thud. 

"Ha-_ha! _Sweet dreams, fuck-face!" Witt fist pumps the air in a celebratory manner, whooping victoriously. When the trickster grins down at Park, his brown eyes look almost golden, and they're twinkling with mischief. "Miss me?" 

_ Yes. So fucking much. _

The voice of the announcer interrupts, echoing through World's Edge. 

"We have our Apex Champions." 

"Holy shit, they were the last squad?!" 

"Guess so," Park croaks from the floor, still downed and hoping nobody else chokes him out again for a while. It's been a rough couple of weeks for that synthetic throat. 

_ "Urgh, _ god!" Elliott coughs, spits on the floor. _ "Blech, _ some of his blood got in my mouth! So gross. It stings." And for some reason, the fact that Elliott-- _ god dammit, _ the fact that _ Witt _clearly hated the taste of that creepy bastard's blood made Park feel good. Really good. Too good. 

Probably because of the way Witt had fucking _ moaned _when he'd tasted Park's blood for the first time. It felt like it had happened forever ago, but he hadn't stopped thinking about it for a single day since. And now every time he saw a drop of blood on or around Witt's face -- which was frequently, in their line of work -- he was instantly aroused. 

_ Oh no. _

That was kind of the problem. And that damn Ghost Machine holosuit was so fucking cool-looking, and made Witt's ass look _ amazing _ \-- _ not that it needs any help, god _ \-- and it just...just made it too damn easy to get distracted watching him, when he shouldn't be. Through the drone, or through sniper optics, but especially up close -- watching Witt kill people _ turned him on. _ He was such a gentle creature the rest of the time, even with the fangs. Seeing him get a little aggressive, a little protective -- seeing him pull off that miraculous self-rez and come charging fearlessly into the room, seeing him toy with that toxic freakshow of a scientist before putting him down...it was fucking _ hot. _Stupidly, ridiculously, embarassingly hot. 

_ Fuck, what is wrong with me? _

Park shifts uncomfortably. His throat is killing him, and he can tell without looking that every centimeter of non-synthetic flesh is bruised a deep purple. Elliott steps over Caustic's deathbox and reaches out a hand like he's going to help Park up, but then snatches it back at the last minute, like he's suddenly changed his mind. 

Park looks up at him in confusion. 

The trickster crosses his arms. "You know, I should probably just leave you here like this. Let you crawl your way to the winner's circle." 

_ I will crawl wherever you want me to. _

Witt continues, "You've been kind of a huge dick to me lately, if you hadn't noticed. You'd totally deserve it." 

_ Oof. Yeah. _

But Park doesn't know what to _ actually _say, mainly because the wicked way Witt is looking at him is giving him a fucking hard-on. 

"I--" 

"Look, I'm sorry I licked your dick, okay?" Elliott interrupts. "You're--you're fucking _ hot, _ okay, and I was...uh, hungry. Thirsty. I don't know--" he sighs, takes a deep breath, "Look, that whole..._situation_...is just a giant, bloody blur. It was kind of a rough week for me, if you didn't notice." Witt sighs again, and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's more annoyed with himself than with Park. "I'm sorry I creeped you out. If I promise to behave can we be friends again? I'm cool with the blood bags but your passive-aggressive bullshit is really cramping my style, man. Can we be done with the part where you pretend I don't exist even though we live together? It's more awkward than the dick-licking, if you're askin' me..." 

_ Oh my god please stop talking about dick-licking, it's not helping! _

Park just kind of nods, because he's still hung up on the "sorry I creeped you out" part and still a little light-headed from the gas and from...other things. He's grateful there's synthetic skin covering his ears because he can feel them going red just from thinking about that night again. 

_ "Creeped me out"? Is that what he thinks happened? Did he miss the part where I was _ begging _ him for it? _

Witt extends his hand again. "Friends?" 

Park grabs it. "Friends." 

But what he's really thinking is _ with benefits. _

\---

Elliott helps Park up. "You owe me one for that, Park. I totally saved your ass." 

"Really? Pretty sure trying to save _ your _ ass was what got me into that situation to start with." Park is as snarky as ever, but even he's not immune to the thrill of a win, apparently. He's smiling, and Elliott is suddenly aware of just how much he's missed seeing that, missed seeing _ him. _

Elliott really wants to ask, _ "So where are we celebrating?" _But that's probably too forward, and-- 

"I think I do owe you a drink, though." Park's smirking at him, giving Elliott a look that says he's up to something. 

Elliott has no idea what that something might be, because he is approximately 99.98% positive he misheard that statement, so he just kind of stands there, because even if Park _ did _say that, Elliott's really not sure if he's talking about blood or alcohol. 

But then Park says, "C'mon, I'm buying," and _ that? _Right now, that sounds even better than another night spent with his face in Park's lap. 

It sounds like a _ date. _

_ Though to be fair, the face-in-lap scenario still sounds pretty sweet. _

Elliott realizes he hasn't had a drop of alcohol since they left Solace. There's liquor in the little fridge in his room, but going back there to drink it sounds like a recipe for more awkwardness, not less. 

"Does this planet even have a bar?" Elliott hasn't seen one. 

Park smiles. 

"I know a place." 

\-----

Talos is weird. Not bad-weird, just...unfamiliar. Everything that's happened since they left King's Canyon has been new and weird and honestly? Kind of scary. He misses his bar. He misses getting trashed at said bar with Ajay and Silva after a long day in the ring. He misses texting Renee to come get them with a portal because no one is sober enough to operate a vehicle. He misses the sun, and he's gonna have to start taking vitamin D supplements or something because this whole "winter" thing is _ total _bullshit, and he's pretty sure the pathetic sunlight on Talos wouldn't even give Renee's pasty ass a tan if she sunbathed all day. The sky is dark by 6PM and it's not as bad as Shadowfall, but it still sucks. 

He misses home. Misses Mom. Misses being in his element. Everything about this place makes him feel off-kilter. Unbalanced. Throws him off. 

Just like Park. 

But Talos is also interesting. Unique. Full of attractive little secrets that draw you in and surprises you're not expecting. 

Which is also just like Park, who has taken him to this bizarre little hole-in-the-wall on the mainland. It's a very strange place, and it is full of very, _ very _strange people. Almost everyone there has some artificial body part or crazy cybernetics sticking out of them, and absolutely no one is speaking English. Several patrons have had a large amount of their flesh replaced with the black synthetic stuff, all applied in unique patterns, almost like tattoos. Quite a few of them have ocular implants like Park's peeking through the skin around one eye -- in fact, Park's one of the most normal-looking people there, his body modifications are actually pretty tame compared to a lot of the ones Elliott is looking at now. Everyone there is plugged into something -- a laptop, a phone, a holo device, an AR display projected in front of their face, and all kinds of other odd-looking pieces of tech Elliot that can't quite identify. 

Park pulls Jee out of his backpack and tosses it--_them?_\--upwards with a quiet, "Fine, go on then," and the drone glides upstairs like it has somewhere else to be. _ That's...interesting. _

There's a guy in the corner sketching something on a tablet. It's surprisingly quiet for a bar, but it's a Wednesday night. Elliott can hear muffled thumping and tone-deaf vocalizing that indicate there's a Karaoke machine up on the second floor, and something tells him this place gets pretty wild on the weekends. 

The place isn't particularly _ seedy, _it just seems like the kind of place you could potentially buy an artificial heart off the black market. Or something. Elliott's pretty much the only person there that doesn't have any hardware and it almost makes him feel self-conscious, like he's under-dressed. 

_ Silva has gotta see this place. _

It's absolutely the kind of place he pictured Park hanging out in, though. Elliott may technically be a creature of the night, but he is way more obviously out of place here than Park, who blends in seamlessly with their surroundings. 

There's a modified MARVN serving drinks and a couple of other robots milling about, and some of them look a little scary. A few look like they were probably manufactured to kill people. But what really catches Elliott's attention are the _ people. _

In the corner nearest to them, he spies a...person -- Elliott isn't quite sure if they're male or female or somewhere in-between, but _ they're beautiful, wow _ \-- with wild red hair that hangs down past their shoulders in a long braid, and a scar over one eye that extends down their cheek. They're the only other person there besides Elliott who looks to be mostly-human, and they are _ passionately _ making out with some sort of android, who appears to be male, and has them pressed against the wall between his shiny arms. Elliott tries not to stare but _ shit, that's hot, _and when the android moves to kiss down the stunning human's neck, the human's emerald eyes open and fix on Elliott. They shoot him a wink before the android's lips distract them again, and Elliott quickly turns away, face feeling uncomfortably hot. He knows he's never seen them before, but something about them feels weirdly familiar. 

There's another android sitting at the bar, and all of his metal bits are anodized, and it makes him look like there's been an oil spill where his skin should be -- one that happened to catch the light just right, making everything brilliant, almost rainbow in appearance. Elliott watches a drone float a serving tray full of shots over to a particularly rowdy table, where a very pretty woman catches his eye, smiling. When she stands up and leans over the table to hand a glass to her friend, Elliott realizes she's only human from the neck up, and everything below her collarbones is artificial. 

A flag hangs behind the bar, and Elliott recognizes it because there's a pillow on Park's bed with the exact same design. Beneath it, A girl with purple hair and an arm entirely made out of metal is wiping down the bar. She's about to hand a customer their beer, and her artificial wrist rotates a full 360° when she pops the cap off the bottle. _ Whoa! _She looks up when they come through the door, and her face lights up when she sets eyes on Park. She yells something to him, motioning for them to come over. 

She and Park talk for a moment and Elliott obviously can't understand a damn thing because both of them are speaking in Park's native language, but he's fairly certain he catches "Apex" and "Mirage" among her unfamiliar words. Whatever she's saying, at one point it makes Park turn bright red, and she says it with a wink in Elliott's direction. 

Park looks over at him. "She really wants to see one of the decoys. Will you--" 

"Yeah, totally." 

_ Finally, _ something Elliott is actually familiar with: showing off. He manifests a decoy -- the shy one, _ dammit, _because that's how he's currently feeling -- who jumps out of him and reaches out to take Metal Arm Girl's metal arm, pressing a chivalrous kiss to the back of her artificial hand. She lets out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands together excitedly once he's let go of the metal one. The decoy pulls a bouquet of flowers out of thin air with a flourish of his hand, and holds it out to her. Her face lights up and she takes the flowers, doing this tiny, almost-imperceptible little nod towards the decoy as she accepts the gift. It's subtle, if Elliott blinked he would have missed it, and he only notices because he's seen Park do the same thing on occasion, when someone has done something particularly nice for him during a match. He'd actually done it earlier, after Elliott had helped him up when they'd won the game. It occurs to him suddenly that it's a bow, that she just bowed to his decoy, and it's kind of adorable. 

And then he realizes Park was bowing earlier, too. He was _ bowing to Elliott _ \-- or _ at _him, or whatever -- and the thought immediately sucks all the air out of his chest. 

Metal Arm Girl waves the flowers in Park's face, and Elliott really, _ really _ wishes he knew what she was saying. It's weird, but it almost feels like she's more excited about the holosuit than Elliott himself. She keeps pointing to the holo-emitter and other parts of the suit and it seems like she _ actually gets _how it works, which is kind of neat. Most people react like it's genuine magic, but getting such an excited response from someone who actually knows what they're looking at is honestly pretty fucking cool. 

_ Everything in this place is pretty fucking cool. _

It's kind of nice just being a regular guy -- well, several of them, all in one suit -- standing in a bar full of strangers. Nobody had stared at him when they walked in, or ran up to ask for an autograph, and normally that would make Elliott a little bit self-conscious. But for some reason, it's kinda nice to get to just be _ Elliott _ for a while instead of _ Mirage. _Some people in the bar definitely recognize him, but in here, it seems like his holosuit is the star of the show. It takes some of the pressure off him, which must be why the shy decoy is doing goddamn magic tricks for a pretty girl instead of hiding in the corner. Then again, the corner is currently occupied by that redhead with the android, so his decoy doesn't really have a lot of options for hiding spots. 

Park turns back to him. "She wants to know if you'll keep him out while we're here." 

"Who, this guy?" he claps his double on the back. "Sure thing. He's pretty good company, and an excellent bartender. I might be a little biased, though." 

Park smiles at him, and turns back to the girl, presumably to relay Elliott's words. She claps again and opens the little swinging door that separates them, waving the decoy back behind the bar. 

Elliott decides he likes this place. 

Park tells him to grab them a seat somewhere, before turning back to Metal Arm Girl and holding up two fingers, obviously ordering something. Elliott wanders away from the bar to find them a table. 

There are a lot of beautiful things in the establishment, but Park is easily the most beautiful among them. 

\----

Park meets him at the table with a bottle of... something, and two small glasses. Instinctively, Elliott reaches for the bottle to pour their drinks and Park swats his hand away. 

"Nope. The older person pours first." 

Elliott raises an eyebrow. "Says who?" 

"Says everyone." He sits a glass full of the unidentified clear liquid in front of Elliott. "Now you pour mine." 

"Mm_kay..." _Elliott grabs the empty glass with one hand and the bottle with the other. 

Park shakes his head. "Nope." Elliott glares. Park's clearly enjoying this, fucking with him. "Glass on the table. Pour with two hands." 

_ God, why is it so hot when you tell me what to do? Fuck. _

"This is a really weird drinking game. We _ are _gonna actually drink this stuff at some point, yes?" Elliott is trying to collect himself but he's positive he's not doing a great job, because he's dizzy...and that's not from the alcohol, which is still in the glass in front of him. 

Park laughs, and Elliott is really starting to love that sound. "Yes, we are going to drink it." 

He places Elliott's glass in his hand, before picking up his own. 

"To friendship." 

It takes every ounce of Elliott's self-control not to add, _ "with benefits." _

They clink glasses. 

Elliott knocks the strange liquid back, promptly choking so hard some of it sprays onto the table. Park is shaking a little bit from trying not to laugh. 

"Holy fuck, what _ is _ this stuff?!" He's been trying to figure it out since Park brought it to the table but the label is, of course, printed in Korean. Park had swallowed it like it was a sip of water. _ Note to self, do not try to out-drink this man. You will die. _

"This," Park says, pouring him another shot, "is Soju." 

\---------------------- 

"So why do you call me 'old man' all the time, then, if age is such a big deal in your culture? You're a year older than me!" 

Park shrugs, smiling, and his cheeks actually ache a little bit because he's smiled more in the last two hours than he has in the last two weeks combined. "Same reason you call me 'kid' -- because it annoys you." 

\----------- 

Elliott pouts. "Well, it's very effective." He glances back at the bar, and notices his decoy is absorbed in conversation with Metal Arm Girl, which is fucking _ weird, _because the decoys don't speak Korean, either. _What could they even be saying to each other? _

Park follows his gaze and laughs again, seeing what Elliott's frowning at. "Yeah, maybe we should get going before she falls in love with you." And then he winks, and Elliott's heart soars. 

But he doesn't want the night to end yet. 

\---

"Thanks, Min!" Park has closed their tab and paid the bill, and he's hugged her goodbye, and now she's hugging the decoy goodbye, and Elliott's decided it's actually kind of cute that they get along. The shy decoy is usually overwhelmingly pathetic, and Elliott's never seen him flirt with a girl -- or a boy, for that matter -- _ever._

_ Metal Arm Girl has a name! You suck at introductions, Park. _

"Nice meeting you, Elliott!" Min says in perfect fucking English. 

_ ARE YOU SERIOUS? _

Once they're out the door, Elliott jabs him in the ribs. "I can't believe you. Why didn't you introduce _ me?! _She's so pretty..." 

"Because she's shy," Park laughs, "And you're fun to fuck with." He pauses, before adding, "I'll introduce you two next time." 

_ There's gonna be a next time?! _

\--

"Oh, I'm fun to _ fuck with, _ am I?" Elliott is maybe a _ little bit _tipsy. Just tipsy enough to say some stupid shit. "I don't know if I believe you. I'm obviously not that much fun to fuck with. I don't think Caustic enjoyed fucking with me today." 

"Yeah, he was too busy fucking with _ me." _Park rubs at his neck, still sore from the man's grip on his throat, even though the dropship had already healed most of the damage earlier. 

"D'you think they've got the footage up yet?" 

Park looks at his watch. "Of the match? Probably. Why?" 

"I wanna watch it! That hipfired headshot with the kraber was _ insane, _by the way. I saw that." Elliott is beaming when he says it, and Park's stomach does a little flip for some stupid reason. "Poor Pathfinder. That's gonna look hilarious in slow motion on the instant replay." Elliott cackled a little bit as he said it. 

Park looked at him. Elliott looked back. And suddenly everything felt just a little more..._ serious, _somehow. So Elliott did what he does best -- he broke the tension with a little comic relief. 

"I couldn't see the look on Caustic's face when I got him, but I bet it was fuckin' hilarious." Elliott looks down at his feet for a moment and then looks back at Park. "Hey, d'you wanna go watch that noxious fucker die again?" 

Park's brain doesn't even really process the question until after he's blurted out, "Absolutely." 

Park is _ definitely _a little tipsy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is already written, just being edited, it'll be up sometime this weekend. Oh and it's gonna RUIN you guys. Just saying. Y'all are so fucked when you read this thing, omg.
> 
> Sorry I cannot stop giving Jee a personality. Oh, also I found out the name "Jee" is Korean for knowledge/wisdom, which is adorable.
> 
> No, I haven't forgotten about Vampire!Crypto and yes, there's more coming as far as he goes. He is a pivotal character, and he's probably getting a scene in chapter 7, once I'm done with it.
> 
> Any guesses on the pretty redhead in the bar? It's not particularly important but you get a cookie if you figure out what was going on there.
> 
> Alright, now go brush your teeth. The next chapter is so sweet it's going to fucking rot them out of your head. You've been warned.


	6. Thermal Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Park thrust his hips forward a little, and Elliott realized he wasn't the only one becoming..._physically affected_ by the situation.
> 
> _Holy crap, is that a shield battery in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?___
> 
> _ _\-------_ _
> 
> _ _After a victorious win and a night of celebratory drinking, the boys go back to Elliott's room to watch the match highlights. Park pulls off an impressive finishing move. Elliott gets what he deserves._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've spent more time on this chapter than any other one, so far. It's not even that long! But I wanted it to be perfect, or as close to perfect as I could get it. It's nothing but porn from the first sentence to the last. I really hope you guys enjoy it. It's pure, self-serving trash, it's absolute filth with a side of painfully-sweet fluff, and I had way, way, WAY too much fun writing this chapter.
> 
> I'm probably gonna take a week or so off from writing because I've been spending every spare second on this fic and I have a mighty need to spend some time actually playing Apex instead of just writing about it. But! I won't be gone long, and I have half of chapter 7 already written. Worry not, once something inspires me with these two, my brain doesn't leave me alone until I write it. 
> 
> In the meantime, hope you enjoy chapter 6!

They are  _ definitely _ only going back to watch the match highlights on Elliott's enormous holo-screen. They are  _ definitely _ going to sit on Elliott's small couch -- well, it's technically a  _ loveseat, _ actually, and now Elliott is kicking himself for having ever bought the stupid thing in the first place, but the rooms in the dropship are so small and cramped that he didn't have a choice -- it was the loveseat, or nothing, and nothing would be worse because then they'd have to sit on the floor. Or the bed. And they are  _ definitely not _ going to sit on the bed.

_ Note to self: Obtain chairs. _

But then they're back on the ship, back in Elliott's room, and Elliott's locking the door behind them and when he turns back around, Park is so close he nearly walks right into him. He's got Elliott caged against his bedroom door, not giving him any breathing room. The customary two feet --  _ minimum _ \-- of distance that Park always maintains between himself and everyone else has seemingly just...evaporated. He's got a hand on Elliott's chest and their faces are a little  _ too _ close and when their eyes meet, the look on Park's face is downright criminal.

"H-hi, uh, w-what's--what're you--" Elliott stammers, wondering where the fuck all his flirty charisma has gone, because he suddenly feels very much like a schoolboy with a crush, not a famous bloodsport legend.

"I'm kissing you," Park says simply, like it's the most normal thing in the world, and then he  _ actually is _ \-- he's pushing Elliott back against the door a little roughly, wedging a knee between his thighs, and pressing their lips together, and one of those strange, mechanically-modified hands comes up to cup Elliott's jaw and  _ keep him there _ , thumb stroking gently across his cheek as the hacker's tongue slips into his gasping mouth.

He can't think, not really -- his brain is just looping _ 'OhmygodohmygodohmyfuckingGOD,'  _ over and over as Park licks into his mouth, causing every last drop of blood in Elliott's body to rush southward so fast it makes him dizzy.

Park's lips are even softer than he'd imagined, and Elliott can't help but moan when Park pulls back just enough to sink his teeth into Elliott's bottom lip. The kiss isn't gentle but it isn't rough, either, it's just...just fucking  _ hot, _ and Elliott realizes that part of the reason why is that it's usually Elliott playing this role. Always the pursuer, never the pursued. It's always Elliott pressing some pretty guy or gal against the wall and kissing down their throat, making them moan, hoping if he puts enough effort into it, they'll stay the night instead of leaving him alone with him _ selves. _ It's always the other party that eventually says,  _ "we shouldn't," _ or  _ "I don't normally do this," _ which just makes Elliott kiss them harder thinking, guiltily,  _ Well, I fucking do. _

But being on the other end of this? The receiving end? With Park's delicious, intoxicating scent making his mouth water, with that firm hand turning his head to the side, and that hot mouth now dragging down his neck? Fucking  _ hell _ . He was done for. Ruined. Fucked. Finished.  


Elliott couldn't help the obscene sound he made when Park's teeth sank into the side of his throat -- the side that wasn't already bitten, thankfully. He also couldn't help the way his hips jerked forward against the man's thigh, or the softly-murmured "God,  _ please…" _ that escaped him and made Park chuckle dangerously against his neck.

_ This is so fucking hot it should be illegal, _ Elliott muses, until the part of him that paid attention in school reminds him that it  _ actually used to be, _ once upon a time. There still remained a few small parts of the Outlands that were inhabited by people who found the idea of two men (or two women) together repulsive, where something like what was currently happening in Elliott's bedroom was a huge social taboo -- a  _ crime, _ even. These small colonies were just the scattered remnants of old religious cults, and they didn't give anyone much trouble these days, outside of their own respective atmospheres. Mainly because they'd chosen to isolate themselves from the rest of the worlds, and thus couldn't access the economic opportunities available to the rest of the Outlands. It's difficult to wage a war or dogmatic religious crusade when no one wants to visit your planet, because you can’t afford to build roads. The tourism industry in these places wasn't exactly thriving.   


It had always blown Elliott's mind, though, trying to imagine that. He couldn't begin to fathom the idea of anyone willingly denying themselves of something as delicious as this, as delicious as  _ him. _ Park is trailing kisses across the front of his throat, licking at his Adam's apple, and then he's mouthing at the skin above Elliott's clavicle, dragging his teeth along it and sucking it between his lips so hard, it almost feels like he's...like he's  _ marking his territory. _ Elliot moaned when the man pulled those succulent lips away to appraise his work, apparently deciding it wasn't satisfactory, because he then leaned down and did it again, tonguing over the spot and sucking gently, then harder, then hard enough Elliott knows that he was right -- Park wanted to leave a mark on him, stake a claim. Leave evidence.

_ Fuck yes, make me yours... _

He desperately wished he could turn off the ship's auto-healing program, because he wanted that hickey to still be there in the morning. He wants to see it every time he looks in the mirror, so he can be sure that it actually happened, that Park  _ actually _ did that, because _ Fuck, that's so hot.  _ Elliott's dick was so hard just from the kissing that it was almost embarrassing. He was already so desperate for it, he couldn't stop grinding against Park's thigh, making pathetic little noises as he did.

Park thrust his hips forward a little, and Elliott realized he wasn't the only one becoming... _ physically affected _ by the situation.

_ Holy crap, is that a shield battery in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? _

Despite his initial roughness, Park eased up when his lips reached the spot where the vampire had pierced its cruel fangs into Elliott's throat, just barely brushing his lips against the tender wounds in a gentle, soothing kiss that made Elliott's chest constrict with how fucking  _ sweet _ it was. 

_ Who even is this guy?  _ This guy who will sometimes wink at him when he nails a sweet headshot in the ring, who takes him to weird bars where everyone knows English but nobody is speaking it, who flirts and teases and does this little snort-type-thing when Elliott says something especially clever, who comes back to his room and fucking  _ kisses _ him, and--

And then Park's pulling back and giving him The Look.  _ That _ look. The same look he'd given Elliott after the first time he'd let him feed. That dangerous, devious look that said,  _ I'm going to fuck you now. _

"Get on the bed, Witt."

_ Yes Sir. _

Elliott gets on the bed. He untangles himself from the gorgeous man in front of him and staggers over to it, taking a seat and feeling so breathless he's sure that he must have actually sprinted to it.

Park doesn't move, except to turn and lean against the door, keeping his eyes trained on the trickster, massaging the growing bulge between his thighs. Seeing him like that makes Elliott feel like he's going to lose his mind. He thinks, rather distantly, that he would dearly love the opportunity to watch Park actually get himself off. Elliott wonders if the hacker has ever done so while thinking of  _ him.  _

Park looks too fucking good like this, and his pants aren't even off yet. Just watching him squeeze himself through the fabric -- biting his lip, his eyes fixed on Elliott -- is so unbearably hot, Elliott is fairly certain he himself will be getting off to the memory of this moment sometime in the very near future. Probably more than once.

_ Oh my god, fuck, look at you... _

Elliott genuinely can't remember the last time his heart was pounding so hard. Maybe that day he'd nearly sucked the life out of Renee, the first time he tasted warm human blood. This felt a lot like that. Like Silva had run up and jammed a syringe of Stim straight into his chest. He was nervous, jumpy,  _ thirsty. _

He's thirsty for something other than blood this time, though.

"Take off the suit."

Elliott feels like his fucking heart is going to throw up.

The suit is coming off, and he hears Park mutter something under his breath in Korean,  _ god dammit, _ still palming his bulge and watching Elliott. Elliott decides that he  _ really _ needs to download a translation app or something because he's fucking  _ desperate _ to know what Park's thinking, what he's saying. But then he looks up and catches Park's eyes roving over him, sees that pink tongue dart out to lick his bottom lip as he stands there with that lecherous fucking smirk on his face, staring at Elliott and squeezing himself through those too-tight black pants -- and Elliott's pretty fucking sure he doesn't need a translator to understand  _ that. _

He's shivering now, in nothing but his boxers, and Park still hasn't moved, hasn't removed a single article of clothing, hasn't done anything but stand there in that stupid fucking jacket, touching himself and looking way more tempting than anyone has the right to look when they're fully-clothed. Looking like pure, unfiltered sex.

_ Please touch me...please, god... _

Elliott chews his bottom lip anxiously, silently begging Park to fucking  _ do _ something, anything. And finally, thank  _ fuck, _ Park takes a step towards him, shrugging out of his coat and letting it drop to the floor.

He's closer now, and when he reaches out to stroke the side of Elliott's face, Elliott leans into it and lets his eyes close, brow knotted in an expression of pure need.

"You're beautiful," Park murmurs softly, thumb stroking tenderly over Elliott's bottom lip -- so different from the way his decoy had done it after splitting it open. Park's touch is feather-light. It's soft, and sweet, and so  _ damn gentle  _ that it takes his breath away _ . _ And Elliott just fucking  _ whines _ , because the part of his brain that does the thinking and the talking and the words-ing isn't working so well right now.

Park's other hand toys with the elastic band of Elliott's boxers for just a moment, but then he suddenly pulls back, like he's been shocked by one of Natalie's electrified pylons. Elliott looks up at him, then lets his eyes fall shut again, shoulders drooping as he exhales. He's waiting for the  _ "We shouldn't," _ to leave Park's lips, bracing himself for the unavoidable sting of rejection that he  _ knows _ is coming. It has to be coming, because it always fucking is in situations like this, when Elliott has talked a shy, mostly-straight-but-sorta-bi-curious guy into his bed, and they inevitably pussy out just when it's getting good.

But when Park finally opens his mouth, it's not to reject him.

It's to ask, "May I?" with his hand resting just above Elliott's boxers.

Elliott's heart shatters just a little at the way Park says it, like he isn't a hundred percent sure Elliott's going to say yes, which he obviously does, because  _ fuck. _

"God,  _ please," _ Elliott sounds a lot more desperate than he means to.

The look on Park's face is pure wickedness, almost predatory, and it briefly reminds Elliott of the version of Park that lives in the cave. The thought sends a pang of guilt through him but he can't focus on it for long because suddenly he's being pushed down onto the bed and Park is  _ on _ him, one artificially-enhanced hand slipping between them to tug down Elliott's boxers and wrap around his drooling dick, while the other tangles in his hair so he can't escape when Park's lips come down on his own, locking them in another searing kiss that has Elliott throbbing in Park's delicious grip. 

And all at once, Elliott becomes aware of something that is absolutely  _ fascinating. _

_ He's done this before, _ Elliott thinks, and the realization takes his breath away, fires a shot of lust straight into his chest at point blank range. 

The way Park is touching him, it's not...what Elliott's used to. It's  _ definitely _ not what he expected from Park. It's not the shy, experimental touch of a guy who has spent most of his life taking only women to his bed, but has suddenly found himself in bed with another dude.

No, not at all. It's the experienced, practiced, confident touch of a man who knows  _ exactly _ what he wants, who knows exactly what he's doing, and knows exactly where it's about to lead. 

Park has  _ definitely _ done this before.

And Elliott's not exactly sure why, but it's the hottest thing  _ ever. _

He groans when the kiss is broken, trying to catch his breath, which is a difficult task because Park keeps doing things that take it away -- like pulling back for a moment to yank his shirt over his head, exposing a smooth expanse of olive skin stretched over lean, flexing muscles that Elliott is terribly eager to get his mouth on.

"Fuck," is the only thing that comes to Elliott's mind as he looks at him, so it's what comes out of his mouth, too.

Park is still straddling him, looking down at him with a small, wicked smile on his face. Elliott can feel the cool metal of the multiple chains and pendants Park wears around his neck -- they brush against Elliott's bare chest, tickling a little, when Park leans over him to drag those pretty lips up the side of his throat and whisper darkly in his ear, "Oh, I plan to."

His words, that  _ voice _ \--  _ Christ, that voice is hot enough to melt a gold body shield. _ Elliott shudders, hands coming up to pull Park's hips down against his own.

Faster than he can react, Park snatches up both of his wrists, pinning them over Elliott's head with one hand, as the other continues stroking his dick in a way that has Elliott worried he might cum before they get to the good part.

"Those hands are going to get you in trouble, old man.  _ Oneul bam nae kkeoya." _

That gorgeous accent is thick like honey and it makes Elliott groan again. And it's so sexy,  _ god, _ because those were the same words he'd spoken to Elliott the first time they met, on the dropship, when Elliott startled him and Park responded by twisting his arm behind his back so fast it was unbelievable, leaning close enough Elliott could feel the man's warm breath puffing against his neck when he growled,  _ "Those hands are going to get you in trouble, old man," _ so low that only Elliott could hear it. 

It's even hotter now, with...whatever that was tacked on there at the end, in Korean.

"Y-you know how hot it is when you do that shit, right? Oh my god, you  _ totally _ know. That could have been Korean for 'rubber baby buggy bumpers' for all I know, but  _ fuck, _ it sounds so good coming out of your mouth." He's pretty sure he sounds like an absolute idiot, but it's the  _ truth _ .

Park says nothing, but he's still got that devious smirk on his face, and he flushes at Elliott's words. He's pulled some nylon rope out of somewhere -- out of his pants, maybe, which are still on, for some unfathomable reason -- and he's focused on wrapping that rope around Elliott's wrists, binding them together and lashing them to the bed frame. 

_ Ugh, I'm gonna be so freaking pissed if this ends up being another wet dream, _ Elliott thinks, kind of wishing he'd taken a second to pinch himself before Park started tying him up, just to be absolutely sure it's really happening.

Quite suddenly, Elliott remembers they're not in Park's room right now, they're in  _ his _ , and a distant part of him vaguely wonders if Park has been  _ planning _ to do this. The idea that he brought the rope with him specifically for this purpose, the idea that he's maybe, possibly spent  _ any _ amount of time thinking about tying Elliott up  _ before _ this moment -- that he  _ planned _ for it -- is so fucking delicious that Elliott has to take a moment to reboot his brain once the thought has finished passing through it. 

Park is tugging on the ropes now, laser-focused on the task in front of him, checking to make sure Elliott's wrists aren't bound too tightly.

_ Aww, can I keep him?! _

Gazing up at him, Elliott wishes he could freeze time, or take some sort of living photo -- something that would let him physically return to this exact moment whenever he wished, because Park looks so fucking  _ perfect _ like this, and Elliott wants the memory seared into his brain forever.

When he's finished with the rope, Elliott can't move -- which is fine, because really, why the hell would he  _ want _ to? His arms are firmly bound to the headboard and the rest of him is pinned under Park's weight -- Elliott is not going anywhere, for now.

He meets Park's gaze, and something about the look on his face makes Elliott's chest ache for reasons he can't quite put his finger on. Park slides a hand down the trickster's bare chest, the strange sensation of that synthetic skin against his own making Elliott shiver with anticipation.

_ God, why does that feel so good?  _

Why is everything the man does to him so goddamn fucking  _ hot? _

The way Park touches him is… _ gentle _ isn't the right word. It's  _ reverent, _ almost. Amazed, like he can't quite believe that Elliott's real, like he wants to--to--

"So beautiful," Park murmurs a second time, his hand drifting down to wrap around Elliott's leaking cock again, thumb stroking over the head and eliciting a needy little whimper.

\--like he wants to  _ worship _ Elliott. Like he wants nothing more in the entire world but to make Elliott cum, and he's fucking  _ going to _ , at this rate,  _ fuck… _

A particularly cruel twist of Park's hand has Elliott's back bowing, arching up off the bed, begging him to stop teasing.  _ Please, god, please don't stop now-- _

_ "Hmmm? _ What is it, Witt?" he asks, like he doesn't know damn well what the answer is. "Is there something I can help you with?" He's kissing down Elliott's chest now, still jerking him off, lips drawing ever closer to where Elliott desperately needs them. "Go ahead, you can tell me," Park murmurs against the skin of Elliott's stomach. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

_ Holy  _ ** _shit. _ ** _ This guy fucks.  _

And then Park's mouth is on him and Elliott could almost fucking cry, it's so good. He's trying not to make too much noise but his ability to control that is quickly evaporating because he's buried in Park's throat and it's such a tight squeeze and the fucking  _ look _ in Park's eyes is so sinful Elliott can't help but beg when that wicked tongue starts swirling around the length of his dick.

"Fuck! Oh  _ fuck, _ Park, p-please--I'm--ohmygod,  _ please--" _

_ "Hmmmm?" _ Park fucking  _ hums _ around him, the vibrations making Elliott's hips jerk involuntarily. He's thrusting up desperately into Park's sweet mouth and  _ Oh god, that throat is so fucking tight… _

After a few more moments of delicious torture, Park pulls off him, looking utterly  _ debauched, _ his lips a little swollen, a little redder than usual. One hand is still grasping Elliott's weeping cock and stroking firmly, but Park's other hand reaches towards him, pressing two fingers -- one flesh, the other covered in that inky synthetic skin -- against Elliott's lips until he sucks them into his mouth, tonguing them greedily.

"Do you want me to make you cum, Witt?" he asks, and Elliott just moans around his fingers. "Do you want me to  _ fuck _ you?"

_ Fuck. Yes. _

Elliott is nodding desperately, he's so hard it almost hurts and Park is so unbearably  _ hot, _ talking like that, and Elliott's afraid he's going to fall apart, like he might just drop dead if he can't have it  _ right-fucking-now. _

Those nimble fingers have abandoned his mouth now, slipping down between his legs and pressing firmly into him, and it's actually  _ Park _ who moans when Elliott grinds down onto them, whining at the stretch but still wanting more.

_ Oh my fucking god, yes, please-- _

Park is curling them into a spot that makes Elliott see fucking stars, and he can't even moan -- he can't make a sound because the breath has been robbed from his very lungs, and his entire body is starting to shake from the pleasure.

Elliott lets out a needy little sob when Park pulls his fingers back and releases Elliott completely in favor of reaching down and pulling the hacking knife free from his boot.

Elliott's eyes widen, cock twitching involuntarily when he sees the knife --  _ because that's a totally normal reaction to that, right? _ \-- but all the legend above him does is slip it between Elliott's wrists and the rope, cutting him loose.

He grabs at Park's wrists the moment his own are free and they lock eyes, Elliott's face a mask of pure desperation and unrepentant need.

"Please,  _ please _ fuck me, Park. I think I'm literally gonna die if you don't--I mean, like, no pressure, but  _ shit, _ I can't--I need it so bad,  _ please."  _

The knife clatters to the floor.

Park's giving him that fucking dangerous look again and before he knows it, he's being flipped over onto his belly, squirming when Park's hands leave him to  _ finally _ take off those fucking pants.

Elliott hears the telltale ripping sound of Velcro -- probably one of the five gazillion pockets on those  _ stupid pants _ being accessed -- and Park sits whatever he pulled out of them onto Elliott's nightstand for a moment to unbuckle his belt.

Elliott cranes his neck a little to catch a better glimpse of it and--

It's a little bottle of lube.

_Holy shit, he_ _**did **plan this. He totally fuckin' planned this. _

And then Park's weeping cock is sliding against the curve of his ass, throbbing and leaking like it did when Elliott fed from him. He whimpers softly, so needy all he can do is shake and beg Park with his mind, hoping what comes out of his mouth isn't quite as pathetically shameless as what he's thinking.

_ Ugh, give it to me. Please. I need it. I need it to hurt, don't be gentle... _

The bottle is plucked from the nightstand and Elliott feels a generous amount of its contents being dripped on his ass, and then Park slips those dexterous fingers back into him for another cruel, teasing moment, stretching him in preparation for what comes next.

Elliott's face-down, ass-up on the bed, chanting  _ "please, please, please" _ into his pillow, rocking his hips back onto Park's hand and nearly crying with desire.

Then Park's hand is gone, but before Elliott can protest its absence, he feels the thickness of Park's cock pressing against him insistently. It slips deliciously against his slickened hole a few times before squeezing past the tight ring of muscle and sliding into Elliott's ass.

The noise that tears itself from his chest is absorbed by the pillow he's currently face-down in, but Park's filthy, wanton moan rings throughout the room...and probably the rest of the dropship.

Park is cursing in Korean as he thrusts a little deeper into Elliott's tight warmth, and though Elliott can't tell exactly what he's saying, he's pretty sure he gets the gist. And he  _ definitely _ agrees.

Park hasn't moved too much, except to thrust forward gently until he's pressed flush against Elliott, clearly trying to control himself. But Elliott can feel him shaking with need, like it's taking all of Park's self-control not to just fucking  _ destroy _ him. He's leaning forward, pressing tender kisses down Elliott's spine and resting his forehead against his shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

But Elliott has other plans, so he's grinding back onto Crypto's cock -- as much as the man will  _ let _ him, at least -- and pleading with him to finally move, to hold him down and fuck him into the mattress like he  _ needs. _

"Fuck, baby,  _ please," _ he moans, rocking his hips back desperately. "Please give it to me, please…"

Park groans, sliding a hand through Elliott's hair and tugging him back against his chest. Fucking  _ finally _ , he pulls back a little, pulls out a bit, and then snaps his hips forward with a grunt, thrusting deep into Elliott's tight heat.

_ "Nghh--ah!" _

Elliott makes a sort of strangled noise because he's lost, utterly lost in the pleasure and lost in Park's arms and he never,  _ ever _ wants to fucking be found because it's so amazingly, deliciously, unbearably good.

Park's got one hand tightly gripping Elliott's ass, spreading him open as he spears the trickster on his painfully-hard length. The other hand has moved from Elliott's hair to circle around his throat, squeezing gently, almost possessively. Elliott whimpers another soft  _ "please," _ and Park groans into the side of his neck, picking up the pace a little. Park is  _ not _ small and Elliott finds he is  _ extremely _ grateful the man thought to bring lubrication, because he sure as shit hadn't thought that far, and he'd have been fucking torn apart without it.

Elliott clenches at the thought, and the tightness makes the man behind him let out a sob, unable to stop himself from slamming roughly into Elliott with a desperate  _ "Fuck!" _ wrenched out of him at the delicious sensation.

One hand is still gently holding Elliott's throat, but the other has slipped back around his dick now, and he feels like the pleasure might blow him to pieces.

Park is well and truly fucking him now, the lewd sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. Elliott can't control his moaning because he's trapped tightly between the twin pleasures of Park buried in his ass and that devious, half-synthetic hand wrapped around his cock, which was going to unravel him any second now…

Elliott could tell from the increasingly rough, sloppy thrusts that were slamming into him from behind that Park was getting close, too.

Park shudders and Elliott can feel his cock starting to twitch, feel the way he's shaking with each intake of breath. And when he hears Park moan out, "Oh,  _ Elliott," _ against the back of his neck, he's not even in control of what comes out of his mouth next, because Park's never,  _ ever _ called him by that name before -- it's always been Witt, or Mirage, or Idiot, or Old Man, and hearing his actual  _ name _ moaned in that sinful, succulent, velvet voice has absolutely  _ ruined _ him, and Park is grinding his cock cruelly against a spot that makes poor Elliott's eyes roll back in his head, makes his entire body jerk at the sudden, blinding pleasure -- so he really, truly cannot be held responsible for what he says in response.

"Fuck, Daddy!"

Everything goes white and Elliott can't hear because his ears are ringing and someone is practically yelling nearby...and it's  _ him _ , he realizes, and he's spilling all over himself and fucking  _ crying _ with pleasure as he cums in Crypto's hand -- which hasn't stopped moving, still stroking his oversensitive cock until he starts to whimper, gasping and shaking as a few stray tears of pleasure spill over onto his cheeks.

Park is fucking him so hard now that he's grunting with the effort of each thrust, and when he hears Elliott's cry -- hears what he  _ calls _ him -- he's suddenly cumming, too, hips stuttering, cock pulsing with each cresting wave of pleasure. He pulls Elliott closer and lets out a muffled moan against the trickster's shoulder as he spills into him -- a possessive, needy cry that sounds suspiciously like  _ "Mine," _ but Elliott can't be entirely sure, because he didn't quite catch it and half of what comes out of the guy's mouth isn't in a language he can understand, anyway.

Oh, yeah, and Elliott had just fucking called him  _ "Daddy," _ so once his brain returns from outer space, it becomes slightly preoccupied with  _ that. _

_ Uh, whoops. Quick question, me -- Where the  _ ** _fuck_ ** _ did that come from? Just wondering. Love, Elliott. _

_ P.S. Was that weird? Shit. That was weird. _

Yeah. It might have been a  _ little _ weird.

\-------------

Park isn't quite sure what to make of Elliott's facial expression.

It's the kind of look that makes one want to ask, "Hey, you gonna make it?" So he does.

That makes Elliott laugh, which is now Park's second-favorite thing in the world to do to him.

"Yeah, I think so," he runs a hand through those pretty curls, still trying to catch his breath. When he looks at Tae Joon, his jaw drops. "I can't believe you  _ smoke!" _ Elliott sounded absolutely  _ scandalized. _ "Like, who even  _ are _ you?"

_ You don't want to know. _

"I do  _ not _ smoke." _ Cigarettes. Anymore. _ "I  _ vape."  _ He blew a cloud of vapor in Elliott's direction.

"Oh my god, you're such a bad influence!" Elliott erupts into a fit of giggles. "Lifeline is seriously gonna kill you."

_ She's going to kill me anyway when she figures out where those blood donations are going. _

_ Worth it. _

"Do you hate it?"  _ He probably hates it. _

Elliott's eyebrows shoot upwards. "What? No!" He looks down for a moment. "As long as you're not killing yourself with the real thing. I am so not kissing you anymore if you start smoking actual cigarettes." When he looks back at Tae Joon, Elliott is blushing. "I--actually, I think it's kind of hot. The vaping, I mean. It smells really good, too." 

_ Oh...good.  _

Instead of saying anything back, Park takes another drag from the electronic cigarette, eyes still locked onto Elliott's. Then he sits up and slides a hand up the trickster's chest, slipping it around his throat as gently as he can, because those new puncture wounds look awfully sore. Elliott leans forward and presses his neck firmly against Park's palm anyway. 

Park brings their lips just close enough to barely brush together, and breathes a vanilla-flavored cloud of vapor into Elliott's mouth. Elliot exhales it gently against his lips, and then Park's tongue is in his mouth again, because he just can't ever fucking  _ stop _ himself, not really, not with Elliott. 

_ This is so fucked. You are so, so fucked, Park.  _

But then of course it's Elliott who ends up actually  _ fucked, _ because Tae Joon already needs it, needs more, needs to fill him up and make him shake and moan and fucking  _ cry _ because it feels so good, because that's the only way he can say it. Because he can't  _ actually _ say it -- what he wants to say -- because he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't have done any of this to him in the first place. But even in other dimensions he's a monster, a _literal_ monster, and from the looks of Elliott's poor, abused neck, the version of him in that miserable Shadow universe couldn't control himself, either. 

_ Is it suicide if the you-who-you-kill doesn't live in the same body you inhabit? _

_ What a fucking question _ .

But realistically, what the fuck-- _ who _ the fuck else could have done that to Elliott's neck  _ again? _

He was going to have to go beg Wraith for mercy,  _ god dammit, _ he should have hunted the monster down while he still had access to that dimension, before the Shadowfall games had ended. Now he needed her help to even  _ get _ there. 

_ But how did Elliott get back there to even get bitten again in the first place? _

It wasn't his business. He shouldn't  _ care. _ But watching Elliott come undone again beneath him for the second time that night -- hearing him beg and plead and then gasp out a fucking  _ thank you, _ like Park was...doing him some sort of favor by touching him in a way that felt  _ good  _ \-- he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He was going to kill the bloodsucker that did this to him, one way or another. 

It was the least he could do, really.

He would never be what Elliott wanted, and he damn sure couldn't be what he needed.

But he  _ could _ kill every motherfucker that ever laid a finger on that beautiful body without permission. And that might somewhat fill the gaping fucking void -- not the one between dimensions, but the one that he knew would open up in his chest the second Elliott started to see who he really was.  _ What _ he really was. 

_ Once he figures out that everything about you is a fucking lie, he's going to run for the hills. _

And honestly, who wouldn't?

_ Not all monsters have pointed teeth. _

\--

"Did it hurt?" Witt's tracing a finger along the side of his face, stroking against the spots along his brow and cheekbone where hardware meets skin.

"Badly." Park isn't going to lie to him. The day after surgery had been fucking horrific. But ultimately worth it.

Elliott jerks his hand away with wide eyes. "Does it still hurt?"

Park snatches it back. "No."

Elliott's face relaxes a little. "So are you going to get more? Like other implants, and...this stuff." He's touching the synthetic skin now, stroking Park's jaw.

"I don't know," Park is watching him closely, but Elliott's too busy mapping every centimeter of Park's skin with his fingertips to really notice. "What do you think?"

Elliott's blushing, and Park is getting addicted to how good he looks when he's like that. All bashful, rosy cheeks, unable to make direct eye contact for long. "I think you should do whatever you want. You're perfect. With or without the hardware."

And now Park is the one blushing.

And then he's asking, "Hey, have you eaten?" Because Elliott does look a little thinner lately and he's not entirely sure what the ideal vampire feeding schedule looks like, but he kind of hopes Elliott is in the mood for another drink. Of the non-alcoholic variety, this time.

The question seems to fluster Elliott, because he stutters through his answer a little bit. "N-not today. Or yesterday. But I um, I have half of one of those blood d-donations in the fridge, so--"

"You didn't drink it all yet?" Park remembers the way he'd spat out Nox's blood earlier and wonders briefly if maybe blood type make a difference in taste, or--

"No." Is all he gets out of Elliott. 

"Are you hungry?"

The question seems like it causes Elliott physical pain. "Elliott," he reaches out, tilting Witt's chin so that he'll look him in the eyes for a moment. "What is it?"

Elliott looks like he's about to cry, and when he speaks again, the way his voice sounds shatters Tae Joon's heart into a thousand tiny pieces. 

"Nothing tastes as good as you did. Nothing even c-comes close," Elliott bites his bottom lip, "but I was  _ hurting _ you, I can't--I can't _stop_ myself with you, Park. I made you  _ pass out _ and I c-couldn't stop myself from t-touching you, either, and it was... _ god, _ and I could have  _ killed _ you, and--"

"Elliot,  _ no. _ You didn't hurt me. People pass out donating blood all the time, you didn't--"

"But then I--"

Park grabs his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Elliott, I was  _ there. _ I was  _ begging _ you for it."

That stops him, finally, and he's just looking at Park with tears in his eyes and Park  _ hates _ it, because the only tears that should ever be leaking from those beautiful eyes are the happy kind, the kind that spilled onto his pretty cheekbones earlier that night, when Park made him cum the first time. But not these. These tears have no place on that gorgeous face at  _ all. _

Park scoots back further on the bed, spreads his legs. "Please, Elliott. Come here. You look like you're starving."

And then Elliott's kissing him, kissing his jaw, kissing down the side of his throat, licking along his clavicle, at the spot where the human skin meets synthetic. He drags his fangs over Park's chest just hard enough to make him shudder, and then that wicked tongue is swirling over a protruding hip bone and then it's snaking down his inner thigh and  _ fuck, _ he's never getting used to this. It's like a drug, the way he feels pinned down under Elliott's mouth, vulnerable and exposed with that hot tongue against him.

And the teeth,  _ fuck. _ Those teeth were wrecking him, because it shouldn't feel so fucking good to have somebody gums-deep in his thigh but it  _ did. _ It felt terribly good. So good Park was starting to wonder just what, exactly, the fuck was wrong with him, because every time he and Elliott were in the same room, the decision-making part of Park's brain just shut down. Crashed. The part of him that would normally say,  _ Yeah, maybe don't fuck your coworker, idiot _ \-- well, it just so happened to go down for maintenance whenever Elliott was around.

Witt wraps a hand around Park's cock when he sinks his teeth into his thigh, massaging the wound with his tongue and moaning at the way Park is thrusting into his hand like he  _ needs _ it -- because he fucking  _ does, _ he needs Witt's perfect mouth on him, wants him to suck him dry if he needs to. 

_ Just eat something, Elliott. Please. _

\------

When he's done with Park's thigh, Elliott pulls back, licks at his own crimson lips, licks a stray drop of blood off of one of Park's angular hipbones, and then drags his tongue up Park's cock, licking a hot stripe up the underside from base to tip, and then taking as much of it into his mouth as he can fit without those damn fangs getting in the way. Park is shuddering beneath him.

_"Fuck,_ Elliott," Park's slender fingers twist in his curly hair, "You're so--god_, jebal,_ _yes,"_ his hips are jerking up into Elliott's mouth as the trickster tries to pin them down and swallow him whole. 

_ "Dangsin-eun igeos-e aju neungsughabnida…" _

Elliott feels a little burst of pride -- at least in the bedroom, Park seems to only switch back to Korean when something feels especially good, or when he's embarrassed and doesn't want to say whatever it is out loud. Which Elliott loves,  _ fuck, _ because for some reason, around Park,  _ he's _ the one who is getting embarrassed and flustered most of the time -- which is not normal, not for Elliott -- and it feels  _ incredibly _ satisfying to get a little revenge.

Park's got a hand gently resting on the back of Elliott's head, the other one is running through his own hair, occasionally gripping it so tight it looks a little painful, with a blush that extends all the way down his chest, hips jerking involuntarily, and an expression on his face like it feels so good it almost hurts. The way he's looking at Elliott makes the trickster feel like he's going to fucking  _ die, _ because Park's biting his lip and taking these shallow little gasps of air, and occasionally moaning out something in his native tongue and just...looking like he almost can't take it. Like he's barely resisting the urge to tangle both hands in Elliott's hair and start fucking his throat.

Elliott wishes he would. 

But he knows that he won't, because that's just not who Park is. It's not how he operates. He doesn't take without asking permission first. He's gentle, and kind, and respectful. It's almost like he's been programmed specifically not to hurt Elliott, and that's only a little bit unfortunate, but mostly very sweet, in Elliott's personal opinion.

So he buries Park's throbbing cock in the back of his throat, moaning around it at how tight the squeeze is, and Park's back arches up off the bed with a desperate little noise as he sobs Elliott's name.

_ "Mmngh! _ Oh  _ fuck, _ Elliott!"

And then he's cumming right down Elliott's throat, and he's big enough that Elliott can't even swallow around him, so he just hovers there, letting his throat constrict around Park's thickness as it pulses in his mouth, feeling the warmth spread through his belly with each spasm as Park runs his fingers through Elliott's curls, trying to catch his breath.

Park gasps out, "That was...amazing," and the praise makes Elliott want to kiss him again, so he does. The hacker moans lewdly into his mouth when he tastes himself on Elliott's tongue.

\---

Park's thigh is bandaged up, and clean sheets are on the bed again, and both of their brains are coming down from the high of oxytocin, so Elliott is surprised when Park sits back down on the bed after getting bandaged up, still naked, like he's not going to leave just yet.

But he totally is, and Elliott knows it. He can sense that he's broken through Park's protective armor, gotten a little bit too close to the person hiding underneath it, and he can tell it's just a matter of time before said person is tugging their _stupid pants_ back on and muttering some excuse and leaving Elliott alone with his thoughts. They'd been at it all night, and it had been the kind of fucking that would have worn even a Stim addict out, eventually. Elliott couldn't blame him for being tired.

_ That annoying drone probably needs to charge, or something, _ he thinks, vaguely realizing that part of why he hates the stupid thing is that it gets to spend every second of its weird little existence right next to Park. It understands all of his words, no matter what language he's speaking. It's privy to all the things he doesn't say, too, because it hears his every thought through their shared neural link. And that kind of makes Elliott a little jealous, which annoys the hell out of him, because being jealous of a fucking  _ robot _ is kind of a new emotional low for him.

But it has a name, he's discovered.  _ Jee. _ It also has a personality, if its varied beeping noises are anything to go by. Even worse, Elliott's pretty sure it has an opinion on his presence in Park's life, because when Park had knocked on the door earlier, to pick Elliott up for their date, he'd heard Park hiss, "Shut  _ up, _ Jee!" just before he'd opened the door.

Elliott glares at the drone as he's tossing the bloodied sheets into the laundry chute and pitying whatever poor soul was on the other side. Probably a robot, but still -- he was pretty sure this ship was the source of the grossest dirty laundry in all the Outlands. But for him, that was a very good thing, because it meant those stained sheets weren't going to stand out among the rest of the legends' soiled laundry. Everybody here was covered in blood all the time, so hopefully it would go unnoticed.

He just needed those sheets gone. There was a part of him that knew he'd end up sucking on the bloodstain later if he left them in his bedroom.  _ Probably while jerking off… _

He was so lost in his thoughts, he was almost surprised when he turned around to see Park still in his bed. Still naked. Still  _ vaping. _ Just watching him. 

The stupid drone and those  _ stupid pants _ were still lying forgotten on the floor.

_ Oh. _

Park exhaled a cloud of vapor, patting the spot next to him on the bed. "You coming back?"

_ OMG. Are we about to spoon?! _

For once in his life, Elliott didn't feel the need to say anything back. Instead, he just walked over and climbed into the bed, snuggling up in the arms of the gorgeous man that was currently in it, and grinning like an absolute idiot. 

_ Is this actually happening?! That's it, I'm dead. RIP Elliott Witt. This is the most effective finishing move **ever.** Of course he wants to be big spoon. Of course he does. _

Park pulled him closer, planting another soft, tender kiss against the part of his throat that was sore from the cruel bite of a mouth with pointed teeth. The trickster made a happy little humming sound, and Park smiled against the man's freckled shoulder, sliding his right hand over Elliott's and lacing their fingers together.

And finally,  _ finally, _ both of their appetites were sated enough that they could drift off to sleep together, just as the morning sun started to rise over Talos. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry.
> 
> But we all know that isn't true.
> 
> PS: Crypto is saying "You're mine tonight." in (probably poorly-translated) Korean the first time. The second thing he says in Korean later on is "You are so good at this." Please feel free to correct me on any of my fuck-ups in relation to Korean language or culture!
> 
> Next time, on Spider Byte: Crypto goes to Wraith for help taking down the monster in the cave, and gets a very confusing response. Elliott's holo-suit seems to be malfunctioning. Renee obtains some fascinating new reading material.


	7. Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott swallowed, trying to think of what the hell to type back, which was difficult because his entire body was buzzing with adrenaline, crackling with electricity, like it had when he'd been EMP'd -- and it was very distracting. 
> 
> _I can't believe he sent me a dick pic, oh my fucking god._
> 
> \-------
> 
> Elliott has a risky snack. Park smuggles something onto the ship. Tension boils over, in more ways than one. Renee helps a friend when they need it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some serious gore in this chapter, blood (fucking duh lol), and one particular scene where physical and sexual assault are implied. It's very tame in terms of explicitness, nothing is really described except the aftermath. However, I do kinda wanna warn y'all that this fic is gonna go some fairly dark places before we get to that happy ending so if there are any parts you feel you need to skip, please do. Hang in there babes, it'll be worth it! The sad parts will be balanced by fluffy smutty goodness, I promise.
> 
> I threw some filth in this one for y'all because there are at least two reasons you all will probably hate me after finishing this chapter, hahaha. I'm so sorry! Things get better in the next chapter, which will be out sometime in the next week. Bear with me, y'all, I swear it'll be worth it and the ending will be happy mmkay? Mmkay.

_ My Elliott, _

_ Hey sunshine. Just wanted to check in, let you know how much I miss you. I hate you being so far away, but I hope you know I couldn’t be more proud of you. I know your brothers would be, too. Mark especially.  _

_ Everyone at the bar has been getting together to watch your highlight reel every Friday night, and I can tell that your friends really miss you. Especially that pretty brunette with the phoenix tattoo! She asks about you every time I come in. That handsome face of yours is gonna break every heart in this galaxy if you’re not careful! _

_ I saw you snag that win the other day, and I couldn’t believe it! Your very first duos match, and you won! I expected nothing less, of course, but you still take me by surprise every now and then. I was holding my breath during that self-revive, oh my goodness. Seems like you and the new guy make a pretty good team! _

_ More importantly, how’s my sweet boy doing lately? You’ve been kicking ass in the ring, but I want to know about the stuff I don’t get to see! What’s Talos like? Are you sick of the cold yet? I’m not even there and I’m shivering just looking at that snow. What happened to make that part of the island so icy? Did that gorgeous hair of yours ever recover from the train explosion? _

_ Anyway, this is getting long, so I’ll let you go. I know you’re a famous legend now, but Mom still needs her Elliott fix every now and then, so text me once in a while, kiddo! You know how I am. I worry about you all the time. Which reminds me -- your holo-suit holding up alright? I gave it a tune-up before you left Solace, but please let me know if it needs any more maintenance while you’re out there. I've also sketched out a couple more costume designs you might want to take a look at before December. _

_ Felix has been sleeping on your bed every night since you left. Everyone here misses you, but I’m pretty confident I miss you the most. Please be careful out there, sweetheart. _

_ Love you to the sun and back, _

_ Mom _

** _P.S._ ** _ Are you still bringing your friend Renee to visit for Thanksgiving? I know you said you had a couple friends who don’t have anyone to celebrate with. You tell anybody who tries to stay on that ship for the holiday to get their butt in the shuttle and come home to Solace with you! I mean it! This house is too empty without you. Felix and I would certainly enjoy the company, so bring whoever you can! Just let me know how many guests to set the table for. _

** _P.P.S._ ** _ I could  _ _ KILL YOU _ _ for sharing that pork chop recipe with the press. That’s a Witt family secret, you monster! _

Elliott sighed. Getting an email from his mom was the kind of thing that normally made his day. But now it just made his heart ache, for too many reasons to count.

He didn’t know what to say back, either.

_ Hi Mom,  _

_ I’m great! Nothing too big going on here, I’m just a fucking vampire now, NBD. New guy and I do make a good team, especially in the bedroom, where we have the best sex maybe ever, and then don’t talk to each other for days, and/or he disappears into thin air. Oh, and Renee was gonna come for Thanksgiving but I’m pretty sure she hates me ever since that night at the end of last season when we got a little too tipsy and...yeah. Things are great here, definitely not awkward as fuck, 24/7. Oh, and I’ve been using the decoys to take care of certain...needs, and now one of them just shows up whenever the fuck he wants, can you fix it so he leaves me alone but I still get to fuck the nice decoys? Just curious, thanks! _

_ Love, _

_ Elliott _

** _P.S._ ** _ I don’t eat pork chops anymore. I’m vegan now. Except for the whole blood-drinking thing. _

He deleted the message and re-wrote it several times before giving the fuck up and deciding to just reply later. There were way too many questions in that letter that he couldn’t comfortably answer at the moment.

_ Ugh, god, and now Thanksgiving. _

He’d invited Renee weeks ago, and she’d actually said yes. Thanksgiving would be his first trip home since he left at the end of September, and he knew his mother would be thrilled to have a couple extra people around for the holiday. Holidays were always tough in the Witt household, ever since...yeah. It was just too quiet. Holidays were a lot easier to deal with when you weren’t spending them alone, crying over people who weren’t there anymore, and never fucking would be.

Instead of replying to his mother, he pulled out his phone and messaged Renee.

_ “Hey, are we still on for Thanksgiving? My mom wants to know if you’re coming.” _

He sent it and then, feeling awkward, sent another.

_ “No pressure!” _

Silence.

He sighed, turning his attention back to the holo-emitter, which was currently lying in front of him on the desk, partially disassembled. Sometimes it started acting sort of wonky, so he’d take it apart and usually find a ridiculous amount of dirt, blood, and other assorted grime from the games inside. A little attention from a q-tip soaked in rubbing alcohol usually did the trick, good as new.

Then again, when the suit was acting up, it was usually doing something like not fully camouflaging him, or manifesting decoys that were semi-transparent and flickering in and out of existence. Dirt had never made it manifest decoys  _ against his will. _

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the holo-suit that was broken. It was him.

\--

When he’d woken up the day after their win, Park hadn’t been there. And honestly, Elliott hadn’t expected him to be -- they’d spent quite a few hours in each other’s company the night before, Elliott didn’t even wake up til 4PM, and Park was definitely not a people person. At some point, Elliott was expecting he’d retreat to his room, and he didn’t exactly seem like the kind of guy to kiss you goodbye first.

Still, Elliott couldn’t help but be a little disappointed when he woke up alone in his bed, instead of in Park’s arms. Even a quick  _ “hey, gotta go” _ would be better than this disappearing act Park kept pulling. Disappearing was  _ Elliott’s _ thing.

His disappointment disappeared, however, when he looked at his phone. There was a message from an unknown number, but he was fairly certain he knew who had sent it.

_ “Check the fridge.” _

He dragged himself out of bed, his whole body feeling like one big pulled muscle. Every inch of him was sore -- the previous night’s activities were more of a workout than the match itself had been. Everything hurt.

_ Worth it. So totally worth it. _

When he opened the minifridge, there was a bag of blood tucked inside the door. A note was stuck on the label, and he didn’t recognize the handwriting. He was pretty fucking sure who the author was, though. There were only two words:

_ “Eat something.” _

Elliott was feeling rather warm and fuzzy for somebody who had just found a bag of blood in their fridge, but that feeling disappeared the moment he noticed the bag had a bright orange label instead of a white one.

This was bad. Very bad.

This meant that the donor blood was gone. This meant they were eating into the  _ emergency blood supply.  _

_ God, did I really drink that much already? Fuck. _

When a new legend joined the games, Lifeline always insisted they give a few pints -- not all at once, of course -- so that if something catastrophic were to happen in the ring (or anywhere else), there was a fridge stocked with that legend's own blood for emergency transfusions.

Well, it  _ was _ stocked. But now one of the bags was in his fridge. Then it was in his hands. And  _ fuck, _ it wasn't some random donor's blood, it wasn't even a random legend's emergency blood. He could smell it, and even before he peeled Park's note off it (and stashed it in his pocket because no way was he gonna throw it away), he knew exactly whose name was going to be written on the label. Still, his stomach lurched a moment later when he saw it scribbled on the bag in Ajay's messy handwriting: 

** _Draw date:_ ** _ 9/30/3019 _

** _Type:_ ** _ B+ _

** _Name:_ ** _ Park, ??? (Crypto) _

_ Does he seriously not have a first name??? Also, what the fuck?! No way am I drinking this, I don't care how cute the note is. No way. Nope. Not happening. _

He wasn't  _ that _ hungry, it wasn't bad enough he needed to drain Park's emergency blood supply. Plus Ajay was going to absolutely  _ lose it _ when she noticed how much had gone missing from the blood bank.

_ Shit. _

Yeah, he wasn’t touching that blood bag. That was gonna stay right where it was until he got a chance to sneak it back into the medbay before Ajay noticed. Or, at the worst, he’d just leave it there until he really,  _ really _ needed it. But no way was he going to accept any more of it. Park had to cut this blood bag shit out, immediately.

\--

Elliott didn't even last the day -- he was fangs-deep in the plastic not three hours later. It was between matches and he hadn't expected to be so hungry so soon, but he guiltily snuck back to his room and sank his teeth into that sweet red nectar anyway.

_ So good… _

The association between the sweet, coppery taste and Park's beautiful body writhing under his mouth had become so strong now that it felt like every ounce of the man's blood Elliott gulped down was rushing straight into his dick. 

_ Why is it this fucking good even cold? _

He was so caught up in the taste he didn't even hear the decoy when it materialized in front of him, smiling down at him with a wicked grin and pointed teeth.

Elliott's eyes flew open when he heard his own voice say,  _ "Hello, darling," _ in a tone that made his blood run cold. 

_ Oh god, no. Fuck! _

  
  


\----------

  
  


Renee groaned. 

_ Shit. Thanksgiving. _

She’d completely forgotten about Elliott’s invite until she got his text. She’d already agreed to go back in September, but that was before... _ this. _

Before they’d left Solace. Before she’d found out she had a name. Before some fucking asshole showed up and stole her best friend.

The invite had also come before the night she’d had a few too many shots at Elliott’s bar on Solace and fucking  _ kissed _ him. Before she’d ruined everything.

He’d been closing up the bar, telling her some story about something. She couldn’t remember what, because at the time she was slightly drunk and far more focused on doing the most idiotic thing in the fucking world: trying to get into his pants.

It was  _ definitely _ the liquor. Not that Elliott wasn’t attractive, he was. But he’d always been too scared to put the moves on her, and she kind of liked it that way. It kept things simple. They were friends. She had a friend. Elliott felt like the first friend she’d ever had in her life, and in a way he was -- any friends she’d had in her previous life had been wiped from her memory.

Elliott flirted with everything. Like,  _ everything. _ If it was sentient and legal to fuck, he was flirting with it. It didn’t mean shit. That’s just how Elliott was, he’d always been a huge flirt. So it was very,  _ very _ stupid of her to come up to him as he sat down at a booth to count tips and start flirting back. It was even stupider of her to climb into his lap and bring their lips together. But she’d done it anyway, because she was lonely, and he was pretty, and they were both a little drunk, and touching something warm felt fucking  _ good. _

It had been  _ hot, _ too -- like, ridiculously hot -- though she tried not to think about that part. He’d jumped a little, when she first touched him, probably because she never got that close to anyone, physically, unless she was about to introduce them to the pointy end of her knife. But once he’d realized what was happening, he just melted into her. He moaned into her mouth and let his hands rest on her hips and pulled her in, like he needed it, and  _ fuck, _ she’d been grinding her hips down onto his lap and he’d been hard,  _ god,  _ and she’d wanted to fuck him right there in the booth. She’d always figured he’d be... _ different, _ somehow. Elliott was a performer, after all. But the whole “Mirage” act disappeared the second things started getting sexual, which surprised her. She’d expected to be swatting his greedy hands away before she even kissed him, but once she had, he proved her wrong. He was so sweet and so  _ gentle, _ even though she was biting his lips and pulling his hair and been an absolute  _ monster _ about it. He was warm, too. So warm it felt like Elliott himself was the source of Solace’s endless summer sun. 

Sex was _totally _about to be happening. Renee wanted it -- Elliott was fucking _hot,_ and once she got her mouth on some of that warm, tan skin, she didn’t want to stop. He’d moaned her name -- which was still Wraith, back then -- and _he_ was the one to finally pull back a little hit the breaks before things got too out of hand.

“I want this, Wraith.  _ Real _ fuckin’ bad, god. But I don’t want to make things uncom--uncum--” he paused, taking a breath, “I don’t wanna mess anything up, okay? Between us, I mean. And I really,  _ really _ don’t wanna wake up tomorrow with that knife of yours sticking outta my throat. So I just wanna be sure...that  _ you’re _ sure…” 

He’d looked up at her with those pretty brown eyes, and she’d looked back. They were both breathing heavily, she was still grinding her hips down onto him and enjoying the way it made him groan. 

“Elliott,” she’d said, “I’m sure.”

And then he was kissing her,  _ really _ kissing her, one calloused hand cupping her jaw, the other slipping up under the back of her shirt, fingers tracing her spine, and  _ god, _ she wanted to feel those hands  _ everywhere. _

But when he reached up to unhook her bra, suddenly it wasn’t Elliott anymore. It wasn’t the bar anymore. It wasn’t her bra, it was the fucking straight jacket and they weren’t Elliott’s hands they were Singh’s and the flashback had hit her so suddenly and so intensely, she almost fell out of his lap. She would have if he hadn’t been holding onto her.

And then suddenly there was four feet of space between them and they were both apologizing and feeling awkward and blaming the alcohol and apologizing fifty more times and that was it, she had ruined it. She couldn’t even begin to find the words to explain what had just happened, and she could tell from Elliott’s face, he thought it was his fault. And she  _ let _ him think that, because she was an asshole who would rather hurt a friend than talk about something uncomfortable.

Elliott had just kept apologizing, looking at her like she was some sort of crystal vase he’d just shattered, and she  _ hated _ it. She hated that all she left him with was a cold “It’s fine,” spoken in a tone that made it very clear that it was  _ not _ fine. 

What she should have said was,  _ “I just had a super fucked-up flashback, my bad. Also I just realized I can’t remember the last time I had sex...if I’ve had sex. Also-also, I am fucked up and you should stay away from me but please, please, please know that this is not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted this. I want this. I just don’t know if I can handle it right now.” _

But she didn’t say that. She just said it was fine, and it obviously wasn’t, and then she left him there, sitting in that booth, chest still heaving from desire, with his holo-suit halfway off, undoubtedly feeling like absolute shit.

It was Elliott, so of course he was an absolute gentleman about it, and carried on their friendship like it had never happened. Which was really nice, because she kind of needed that. Just a friend. A friendship. No pressure or feelings or bullshit to worry about, just someone to...be around. Things were a little awkward after, but not nearly as weird as they would have been if it were anyone else. If it had to be a fellow legend, thank god it was Elliott.

Too bad it was also her only friend, though.

Now she wasn’t even sure if they  _ were _ friends. He was  _ definitely _ fucking Park, or he was very,  _ very  _ interested in doing so, at the least. Which was fine, honestly -- it wasn’t like she was in any shape for a relationship, anyway. She could barely handle kissing. No, what sucked was that it was  _ Park, _ who was ** A.** a huge asshole,  **B.** shady and suspicious as fuck, and almost certainly the source of the destruction in King’s Canyon, and  **C.** smart as hell and...not  _ un _ attractive. A and B were the biggest issues. Mostly.

She just couldn’t be cool with someone who she couldn’t trust around Elliott. Elliott liked to perform, but behind the scenes, he was sweet and gentle and sensitive. It was easy to hurt his feelings, especially if you were a dumb, insensitive asshole like Park. 

Or like her.

The fact that Park had been willing to agree to her request to follow Elliott, but was unwilling to share whatever he had seen when he did made her very uncomfortable. She didn’t care who Elliott was fucking -- it’d probably be easier to make a list of the few people he  _ wasn’t _ fucking -- but she  _ did _ care who was hurting him. Because  _ somebody _ was.

But after what she’d experienced in the cave…

_ Seriously, Renee. What the fuck are you even doing? _

Maybe spending some time with Elliott -- just the two of them -- would fix things a little bit. Whenever Park was around him, both of them acted like total weirdos. But maybe if was just her and Elliott, they could actually talk about some of this shit. Plus, a change of scenery might be nice. Solace was hotter than hell, and King’s Canyon was dusty and dirty...but Renee was really starting to miss it. Talos was a stunning planet, but she’d just started getting used to Solace when suddenly, they had to leave.

Solace wasn’t Renee Blasey’s home world. But it  _ was _ Wraith’s. It almost felt like she’d been born there. In a way, she had. Renee Blasey died down in that underground fortress, with the rest of her memories. The person who barely made it out of the labs alive and came stumbling out into the canyon’s sunlight -- that was who she really was. That was Wraith. 

She remembered that day like it had only just happened. Everything before was kind of fuzzy, probably because of the drugs they’d undoubtedly pumped into her to keep her docile when she returned from the Void. But suddenly, the fabric of space and time was ripping open, and she was watching herself step into the room and murder the man who was about to put her down.

Voidwalker had been furious at  _ her, _ though. 

“What’s wrong with you? We’re better than this!”

The much,  _ much _ cooler version of herself had taken her by the shoulders and said, “Don’t you get it? We can make them pay for what they did to us.” 

The problem was that Wraith didn’t  _ know _ what they’d done to her, or who  _ they _ even were. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t even know who she was. It was hard to even focus on that though, because the voices weren’t under control yet. They were screaming and crying in her head and it was so distracting, she could barely pay attention to what was happening in front of her. Despite the multitude of armed guards hunting them through the facility, all she really cared about was finding out who she was. Who she is. Who she’s supposed to be.

But now that she had the answer to that question, she kind of wished she hadn’t asked.

Everything was different now. At the end of the previous season, things started getting fucking  _ weird.  _ All of a sudden they’d excavated the labs, and she could get back in, which was something she’d desperately wanted since the day she escaped. She had so many questions. 

But she’d also seen something strange. Looting at the Repulsor, something triggered the voices -- which were finally calming down enough that she could actually hear them individually -- and she’d turned around, weapon drawn, ready to blow the enemy away. No one was there, though. Just like in the cave. She’d seen a figure in the distance, though -- the silhouette of a man. When she moved his way, he bolted so fast he forgot to grab his laptop. When she reached it, there were blueprints for the Repulsor station on the screen. 

Pathfinder said she’d probably spooked one of the tech guys. Sometimes there’d be technical difficulties during a match, like the banner screens not working, or the announcer’s voice bugging out, so some poor soul would have to run out there in the middle of a match and get it working again. 

_ They sure are having a lot of technical difficulties lately, _ she’d thought at the time.

And then the Repulsor blew up.

Wraith kept her suspicions to herself. She already had a reputation for being crazy -- she didn’t want the rest of the team to think she was having visual hallucinations now, in addition to the voices. She kept her mouth shut, but her eyes were open.

After Singh’s lab was unearthed, things got even weirder. During a match, she stumbled across a set of locked doors. All the other doors in the lab had the locks disengaged, to more easily facilitate combat. Not this one, though. These doors were locked, and after kicking them down, she could see someone had pushed a desk in front of them on the other side, presumably to keep people out. She vaulted over the desk, hoping there might be some good loot inside. Maybe some answers, too.

There was a single frag grenade on the floor.

_ Awesome. So worth it. _ She sighed with frustration, and turned to go.

Then she froze.

Her voices weren’t triggered, but she heard something else. Someone was typing frantically. They were close, too.

Moving further into the room, she peered through the glass pane separating her from an observation booth, and her jaw dropped. Someone was  _ in there. _

It was Park. She hadn’t known that at the time, but she was positive now.

He hadn’t heard her -- he was distracted by whatever he was doing on that terminal, but his drone sensed her the moment she stepped in front of it, alerting him immediately. He whirled around and they both froze for a moment, staring at each other. Then he darted down a hallway where she couldn’t follow, because the doors were sealed. 

_ Who was that? How the fuck did he even get in there? _

After a moment of shock, she pinged the spot where he’d just been standing.

“Got eyes on the enemy.”  _ Well, I had eyes on the enemy, for a second. _

Ajay had come flying into the room a moment later, but it was already too late. Park was gone.

“Sure ya eyes not playing tricks on ya?” Ajay elbowed her playfully, before bending down and snagging the lone frag grenade from the floor.

Octane bounded over the desk a moment after Ajay, scanning the room. “Enemy?  _ Donde? _ I don’t see anybody,  _ amiga.” _

“I swear, he was right here. It wasn’t...one of us. It was somebody else. He had a robot…”

“How much sleep ya get last night?” Ajay was giving her the concerned look, the one she absolutely  _ hated. _

“He was right there!” she thrust a finger towards the observation booth. “I saw him, I’m not hallucin--”

_ “¿Qué es esto… ?” _ Octane interrupted. 

He wasn’t looking at either of them, though. He was standing near the control panel in the corner, looking at something small and black that he’d evidently found on the desk.

“Looks like a voice recorder. Audio log, maybeh?” Ajay was right. 

Octane poked a button on the device, and then all of them froze, because the voice that came out of it was  _ Wraith’s. _ But the voice wasn’t the scary part. Its words were.

Words like  _ “experiment” _ and  _ “volunteer.” _

Words like _ “Renee Blasey, lead scientist for Project: Wraith.” _

Everyone on the team already treated her like she was made of glass. Scary glass. But word traveled quick on that drop ship, and Silva’s mile-a-minute mouth definitely didn’t help. By the end of the day, all her team mates on Solace knew about her past. Knew she’d been a  _ monster, _ not a victim. Everyone treated her differently now, too. The pity was gone, which was nice, but it had been replaced by rage. Anyone who’d lost a loved one to the IMC or the war -- so everyone, pretty much -- gave her a very wide berth outside the ring. They left the room when she entered. They whispered to each other. The only legends who didn’t treat her any different were Elliott and Path. Well, and Ajay. Ajay understood what it was like, suddenly discovering your family name was built on human suffering. But everyone else...they definitely judged her. She could feel it, feel their eyes on her. It pissed her off even more than the endless pity had before.

She knew it wasn’t exactly Park’s fault -- she’d spooked him twice, and apparently he had a habit of running away and leaving evidence behind. The voice log was probably already in the lab, it wasn’t like he left it out on purpose. She couldn’t be mad at him for it, not really.

But when she had glanced at the terminal screen in that observation booth, she’d seen a blueprint of an unfamiliar structure. Above it were what looked like coordinates, something about a security key being “null,” and the words, “World’s Edge.”

Now that’s exactly where they were. And  _ that? _ That she could be mad at Park for. He took her best friend, blew up the only place that felt familiar, and forced them all off-planet and away from the lab. She’d wanted to explore it more, but there wasn’t time -- the move to Talos seemed rather...last-minute. Rushed. Renee hadn’t seen the lab -- or Solace -- ever since. 

During Shadowfall, the lab was nowhere to be found. It either hadn’t yet been excavated in that dimension, or -- more than likely -- it didn’t even exist in the Shadow world.

Solace was Elliott’s home, not hers. Her homeworld was fucking  _ Typhon, _ apparently.

_ Was I seriously  _ _ born _ _ at a fucking IMC outpost? _

If that was the case, she was almost glad her home planet had been destroyed. The last thing she wanted was a family -- one that likely had close ties to the IMC -- out there looking for her.

Solace wasn’t home. It wasn’t. But it  _ was _ the closest thing to home that she had. Maybe going back there for the holiday would help clear her head a little bit. Being stuck in a house with Elliott for a few days wouldn’t be nearly as bad as being stuck on the ship over the holiday, with nobody there except Park.  _ Fuck that. _

She sighed, slamming her book shut and picking up her phone again.

_ “Yeah. Tell your mom I’ll be there.” _

She sent the message. Then she chucked her phone across the room, but reconsidered at the very last second, opening a portal that sent the phone flying back onto the mattress instead of crashing into the wall. Picking it back up, she scrolled through the media player until she found the song she was looking for. It was an old one, but something about the strange, industrial soundscape drew her in. 

She liked old things, sometimes.

As the pounding, jarring beat echoed through her head, she reached for the book again. Opening it to where she’d last left off, she eagerly dove back in, letting the music and the story take her somewhere else. 

Anywhere else.

_ A thousand lips, a thousand tongues, _

_ A thousand throats, a thousand lungs, _

_ A thousand ways to make it true, _

_ I want to do terrible things to you _

  
  


\---------

  
  


_ "What are you doing right now?"  _

The message makes Elliott's heart flip once he realizes who it's from.

_ "Fucking around with the holosuit -- like, fixing it, I mean. Decoys have been acting a little funny lately...anyway, what are you up to?" _

There's no reply, and the little ellipses indicating Park was typing popped up, then disappeared, came up again, then nothing.

Elliott sighed, getting up from his desk and wandering over to his bed. Collapsing face-first into the mattress, he groaned in frustration. Then he shuddered, remembering the last time he'd had his face shoved into the mattress...

_ God, did that seriously even happen? Mmmm--no. No no no. Stop it--  _

Just thinking about it was making him hard. 

His phone buzzed. It was from Park again, another text message. 

_ "Thinking about you." _

And then a photo.

A photo of those ridiculous, sexy,  _ stupid _ pants.

But Park's belt was undone and his fly was unzipped and one half-synthetic hand was gripping the obvious outline of his hard-on, which was thick and straining against the fabric of his underwear. Park was fucking squeezing himself like he'd been that night when they...went back to Elliott's room. There was a small wet spot on Park's green boxer-briefs, near the head of his cock.

And he had sent Elliott a  _ photo _ of it.

Elliott swallowed, trying to think of what the hell to type back, which was difficult because his entire body was buzzing with adrenaline, crackling with electricity, like it had when he'd been EMP'd -- and it was  _ very _ distracting. 

_ I can't believe he sent me a dick pic, oh my fucking god. _

Elliott's been rock hard since the second he saw it, and now he's squeezing his cock, too -- but not through his pants. He can't help it, he needs skin-on-skin contact, the photo is just too fucking much. He can see enough of Park's abs in the photo to know he's got his shirt off, and the thought of him lying there, shirtless, on his bed -- the same place where he'd been laying while Elliott had fed from him the first time -- and getting hard, fucking  _ touching himself _ to the thought of Elliott? Yeah, that thought was almost enough to make him explode. And then Elliott's imagining Park  _ watching _ him. Through his own phone or,  _ god, _ through that crazy optical implant...  _ fuck, _ it's almost more than Elliott can take. A soft moan escapes him as he slowly begins stroking himself, already shaking with need.

_ He is so fucking hot, it’s so unfair, ugh... _

Before he can even begin to type a reply, another message comes through.

_ "Let me see you?" _

Elliott's no angel. He's taken his fair share of dick pics, maybe even kept a few good ones on-hand in case he needs to send one in a hurry. And who could blame him, with a body like his? If one were to look up "tall, dark and handsome" on the internet search engine of their choosing, one would surely pull up a results page full of photos of Elliott Witt -- some of which would definitely not be safe for viewing at work. Elliott was not at all shy about putting his... _ best assets _ ...on display from time to time.

But  _ shit, _ Park's request has him actually trembling, and he's not even sure why, it's just so fucking  _ hot _ that Park is jerking off to the thought of him, wants to  _ look _ at Elliott while he jerks off to the thought of him. Wants to watch Elliott make himself cum. 

_ Fuck. _

Elliott's already so hard it aches, he's throbbing, and there's not a whole lot of blood circulating in his upstairs brain, so that's not the one he's thinking with at the moment. This should be noted because it's an important factor in the decision he makes next: 

Instead of tapping the first camera icon in the upper corner of the messaging app's on-screen keyboard to take a photo, Elliott taps the one next to it. The one that immediately turns the status light on his phone red. 

The one that says "Go Live."

The one that streams live footage of his current... _ situation _ ...directly to Park's phone.

His phone buzzed. New message.

_ "Good boy." _

_ Oh my god. This is the best thing that has ever fucking happened to me. _

Elliott can feel his cheeks burning as he watches himself through his phone screen, knowing Park is seeing the same footage. He can't help the little moans that are coming out of him with each stroke, because he's imagining how the hacker must look right now, thrusting up into that almost-artificial hand and biting his lip while he watches,  _ fuck, _ and Elliott knows he's not going to last, because if there's one thing Elliott Witt loves, it's being looked at. Especially when the person doing the looking is so goddamn beautiful themselves. It's too much, he's already close, he tries to stifle a moan but he doesn't do a particularly effective job of it.

A few moments later, another message.

_ "Don't you dare cum yet." _

Elliott whines. He's not sure if he's capable of actually controlling that right now, especially because that last message just sent a bolt of lust piercing right through his abdomen.

"Oh god, oh god,  _ fuck…" _ Elliott squeezes the base of his dick, hard, just barely able to stop himself from cumming. He's breathing like he's just run a marathon and trembling so much he feels certain he's going to shake apart.

New message.

_ "So good for me. Keep going." _

Elliott groans,  _ this isn't fair, _ he can't do it, he knows he can't, there's no way he can keep going without--

"Please,  _ please _ let me cum, I c-c-can't-- _ fuck!" _ His lip is bleeding from how hard he's been biting it, and the fangs come out when he tastes blood.

A new text pops up.

_ "One more." _

"I  _ can't!" _ Elliott has tears in his eyes because it  _ hurts _ but it feels so fucking  _ good _ that he can't do anything but obey, and keep going, keep stroking himself, because all he wants in the world is to cum and to still be a  _ good boy. _ He just wants to submit. 

_ "You can do it. Or you can be punished." _

_ Holy fuck. _

Elliott shudders, thinking that punishment doesn't sound so bad. But knowing Park, it would be even more deliciously cruel than his current predicament. Elliott's so fucking close it aches, and his ears keep ringing and he can't stop making noises that he knows are utterly pathetic but he's way too far gone to even begin to do something about that, because he's about to spill.

The second time, it's all he can do not to cum. His dick actually pulses once and he practically sobs, but he squeezes himself so hard that it hurts and somehow manages not to explode. The sound that escapes him is almost pornographic. Gasping and whimpering, he glances back up at his phone and reads the newest message.

_ "Such a good boy. So obedient. Keep going, you're almost there." _

Elliott whines. It doesn't even feel like he's in his own body at the moment, he feels like he's temporarily stepped out of it and is watching the scene from across his bedroom. Sweat is beading on his forehead, he's red-faced and gasping with his eyes shut tight because he has to  _ focus. _ He has to  _ be good.  _ But then he hears the chime of another received message.

_ "You're so beautiful, Elliott. Always. But especially like this." _

He can't speak, it's too much, he's getting close again and it's all he can do just to open his eyes enough to read the message in the first place.

"Please, please--I'm gonna--I  _ can't--" _ Elliott notices his cheeks are stained with tears. 

_ "Do you want to cum, Elliott?" _

_ YES _ .

"Crypto,  _ fuck, _ baby,  _ please!" _ He's being too loud and he doesn't care, he can't give a fuck about anything but release, relief from the ache and the throbbing and the  _ need. _

He's not sure why the hacker's Apex alias is what comes out of his mouth, he's just glad it's not  _ "Daddy" _ this time. He wants to say something more intimate than  _ "Park," _ but the fucker won't give him more than a last name, so  _ "Crypto" _ is all he's got, and now he can't stop moaning it, like it's the only word in the English language besides  _ fuck _ and  _ please. _

It must be the right thing to say, because when the next text message comes through, it's the answer to Elliott's prayers.

_ "Then cum for me." _

Elliott's barely finished processing the words, but he's cumming already. He makes an absolute mess and it goes  _ everywhere _ \-- all over his chest and stomach, all over his hand, his pants, the bedspread. He's sobbing, "Fuck,  _ fuck _ \--baby-- _ yes, fuck--!"  _ and his cock is still twitching, still shooting little spurts of cum that spill over his fingers and ooze down between his thighs, sticky and warm. Tears are falling and he's crying  _ "thank you, thank you, oh my god--" _ and thrusting up into his own palm until he shudders with overstimulation. When he can finally open his eyes again, he’s shocked, because he can't remember the last time there was this much cum on him without multiple decoys being involved. 

Looking down, what he thinks is, _ God, he's made such a mess of me. In every way. _

"Fuck…" is all he can gasp out, trying to catch his breath.

A message pops up.

_ "So beautiful. Such a good boy for me." _

Elliott can't help the pathetic whine that comes out of him when he reads it. His face grows very hot when he realizes he's still streaming and Park undoubtedly heard it.

He tries to think of something to say, but comes up empty-handed. 

Another message.

_ "Unlock your door. Get in the shower. I'll be there in a minute." _

A soft sort of  _ "Mhmmm…" _ is about all Elliott can manage, words-wise, because he's floating.

\---

Elliott is so zapped from the intensity of the orgasm that he doesn't hear Park enter the bathroom. He gasps softly when the shower's sliding glass door is pulled open, shaking him out of his reverie.

Strong arms wrap around him from behind. 

"Are you alright?" Warm water is running over both of them, and Park is kissing along his shoulder. "Was that...okay?"

_ "'Okay'? _ Are you high? That was fucking  _ amazing. _ That was  _ unreal. _ Fuck." Elliott's got a dazed, sated look about him when he says it, and he feels Park's dick twitch against his ass when he says it. The hacker presses a soft kiss just below Elliott’s ear, chuckling at his words.

"I am glad you enjoyed it." The way he says it makes Elliott's heart ache, but he's not quite sure why.

"Did  _ you _ enjoy it?" Elliott asks, suddenly curious.

"More than you can possibly imagine." Elliott feels him throb against his backside again.

"Well yeah, but what I mean is, did you cum?" He's still rock hard, Elliott can feel it. 

"I--I wanted to come check on you first. I can...review the footage later."

Trying to ignore how fucking hot that mental image gets him, Elliott turns around. "You've gotta be kidding. Wow, you're  _ not _ kidding. You seriously didn't finish because you wanted to check on me? Well shit, why didn't you say so?" The trickster immediately drops to his knees, warm water gliding down his back.

"Elliott, what are you-- _ oh!" _ Park's hands instinctively come to rest on the back of Elliott's head, his own head thrown back as a tortured moan is ripped from his lungs when Elliott takes him deep, groaning around his thickness before pulling back to swipe that wicked tongue over the head of his cock.

"Elliott, please, you don't have to-- _ fuck! _ \--do that, oh my  _ god…" _ he moans, trying to hold onto his composure. 

Elliott notices he's beginning to recognize a few of the Korean phrases that only seem to slip out of Park's mouth when his dick is down the trickster's throat, and though Elliott's not exactly sure what they mean, he reckons he could venture a guess.

He pulls off Park's cock with a lewd little pop of his lips, which are already bright pink and swollen from how hard Park had him biting them earlier. 

"And what if I  _ want _ to?" He smiles mischievously up at the hacker, dragging his tongue along the underside of his cock and making him shudder. "What if I want to do  _ this?" _

He swallows every inch of Park's cock, nose pressed against the patch of soft, dark hair between his legs. He can feel the man's grip on his hair tighten as he lets out a ragged  _ "Fuck, _ Elliott!" Park's cock is already twitching between his lips, but Elliott's not done toying with him just yet.

Pulling off again, Elliott strokes him teasingly, relishing the way the man's chest is heaving with every shaky breath. "What if I  _ want _ to suck you off in the shower?" he asks, looking up at Park with as much feigned innocence as he can muster. The man looks ready to eat him alive. Elliott slips his tongue out to catch the little droplets of desire that have started to form on the head of Park's cock as he strokes it, tasting the saltiness even through the warm water that flows over both of them. Park gasps when Elliott takes him in deep again, throat pulsing around his cock torturously for a few seconds. 

He pulls away momentarily, looking up at Park with pure wickedness in his eyes. "What if I  _ want _ to make you cum?" Elliott doesn't wait for an answer before swallowing him down again.

Park is groaning, unable to resist thrusting forward a few times into that sweet velvet throat before yanking Elliott off him again, gasping as he holds the trickster's pretty face a few inches away from his dick. Elliott pouts, sticking his tongue out as he strains to reach it.

Park smirks down at him, stroking himself and still firmly gripping Elliott's curls with his other hand, holding him so his face isn't under the stream of water.

"Then I'm going to cum all over that pretty face."

With a few more strokes of his hand and a moan so obscene even Elliott blushes, that's exactly what he does.

\------

They need a safe word. Like, really,  _ really _ need one, and soon.

But the safe word conversation means acknowledging...whatever the fuck this is, this  _ thing  _ they’re doing. First it was just a one night stand, where things got a little...kinky. Right now it’s just really,  _ really _ hot sex. But it is quickly turning into something else. Something with  _ feelings  _ involved. 

Something incredibly dangerous.

_ Control yourself, Park. _

It’s not like Elliott was the first attractive person he’d ever met in his life. But he just couldn’t stop himself, ever. He wasn’t sure why. All he knew was the moment that pretty tan skin was under his mouth, any and all self-control fucking evaporated.

Someone was going to get hurt. Probably Elliott.

But having a conversation about limits and safe words and all that other shit also meant asking,  _ “What the fuck happened to your neck, Elliott?” _ and Park could already tell that wasn’t a question that Elliott felt comfortable answering. That right there was the problem. It wasn’t that it meant Elliott was maybe fucking someone else --  _ he probably is, because look at him, shit  _ \-- it was that Witt wasn’t comfortable enough to say,  _ “Oh, these? These are, uh, consensual love bites,”  _ with that mischievous grin on his handsome face. Instead, he just flinched and fell silent whenever the subject came up, wouldn’t look Park in the eye. Seeing the trickster instantly go from his normal, bubbly, overly-talkative self to this terrified, withdrawn person was unnerving. It was  _ enraging. _ Seeing the hurt in those pretty brown eyes made Park want to hunt down its source and squeeze the life out of it with his bare hands.

Park had talked himself down a few times already. But somehow, in the few hours since Park had left his bedroom, Elliott had gotten  _ another _ bite. Park noticed it during a match, when that checkered scarf he wore slipped down. It was bad, too. The worst one yet, even worse than the first one. When Elliott saw what Park was staring at, he just froze.

Without thinking, Park reached out to touch it -- half-sure his eyes were playing tricks on him -- and Elliott flinched. Like it  _ hurt, _ and not in a good way. Like he didn’t want to be touched there. Like someone had done it to him against his will. Surely if he’d been enjoying it -- if he had  _ wanted _ those teeth there -- he wouldn’t look so fucking terrified every time the wounds attracted Park’s attention.

He’d only gotten as far as, “Elliott, what did thi--” when Witt pushed him back against the wall of the house they were looting, bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss and silencing the question before it could really be asked. When Park finally pulled away, a little breathless, the look on Elliott’s face said  _ “please, don’t ask.” _

Park knew what that felt like. So he didn’t ask. He just kissed him again, vowing to fucking destroy the thing that did this to him.

During the next match, when his squadmate was distracted, Park took a few minutes to hack a charge rifle and stow it in his backpack. Hell, he probably could have done it without the hacking. The drop ship’s weapons-detection software wasn’t exactly the top of the line. Everybody on the damn ship had a knife on them, minimum. He'd gotten a look inside Bloodhound's room when the legend left their door open, and it was basically an armory. It was full of ancient, painful-looking battle axes, pikes, and daggers.

The ship’s A.I. really  _ was _ shit.

  
  


\----------

  
  


"You're ballsy as hell, coming through that doorway without knocking."

"That's rich coming from you, Renee. At least I waited until it was open."

"Don't fucking call me that."

This was going extremely well. Talking to Renee had been a great plan. Really. Just genius. He sighed, exasperated. 

_ At least she's not choking me out this time… _

It would be helpful if she could stop being so pretty while also being so goddamned insufferable, though. He’d never seen her hair down, never seen her wear anything but her bloodsport gear. 

_ That’s what you get for locking yourself in your room all the time, idiot. _

When he poked his head through her doorway, he’d been rather surprised. It was strange seeing her hair down. Strange seeing her in leggings and a tank top, blowing on her fingernails, which she'd just finished painting black.

"Why the fuck would you even want to go back there, Park? Seriously, are you nuts? That's a suicide mission without the dropship and respawn beacons around."

_ It's a suicide mission already, _ he thought bitterly. When he got his hands around that vampire's throat, he was going to tear him limb from fucking limb. He didn’t give a fuck if it looked just like him. It needed to die.

"Really though. Why would you want to go anywhere near that dimension?" 

Park was a patient man, he really was, but this was going nowhere, and he didn't have time for her bullshit right now.

"Because there's someone--some _ thing _ in that dimension that is hurting Elliott. Badly. Regularly.  _ Physically. _ You said he was your friend, remember?"

She looked up from her book, finally meeting his eyes. "Hurt- _ ing? _ Like, present-tense?"

It was an actual book, too, not one she had downloaded. A physical book. It looked heavy, and like it was older than dirt. He tilted his head slightly, trying to get a look at the title on the cover, which was badly faded.

_ 'Dracula' _ by Bram Stoker. 

_ That's…not great. _

_ "Yes, _ present tense." He was beginning to get agitated.

Wraith rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you. Whatever hurt him, it’s not from the Shadow dimension." 

_ What? _

"How the  _ fuck _ would you know?”  _ Oof. _ That came out a bit louder than he’d meant it to. He took a breath, trying to calm down before he continued, “Renee, he  _ told _ me about it. I'm not making this up! Something in that cave grabbed him and took a chunk out of him--"

"Holy shit. You're in love with him."

Park knows he needs to say  _ "What?" _ or  _ "No way," _ or do literally anything else besides what he's doing, which is staring wordlessly at the floor with his ears burning, embarrassed. He’s not sure exactly what those voices in her head are saying, but they must be snitching on him.

"Oh my god, you really are. You’re totally in love with him."

_The fuck is that supposed to mean?_ _I’m not--_

She sighed. “Look, I get it, you’re jealous somebody chewed on your new boyfriend or whatever. But I’m not a dimensional tour bus, okay? And what the hell does any of this have to do with Shadowfall?” She paused, looked down for a moment, and then asked, “Does Elliott know? That you love him, I mean.”

Sometimes making eye contact with Wraith was a little bit scary. It almost felt like she could see into his head, pinpointing all the things he was trying to hide from everyone -- himself included. She couldn't read minds, as far as he was aware, which was worse, because it meant that feelings were starting to show on his  _ face.  _ In his words.

He chose to ignore her last question. "There is a monster in that cave that is leaving fucking wounds on him! Bruises! I've  _ seen _ them. And it's  _ still happening, _ at least once a week, sometimes more. You don't have to come with me, but I can't get back there without your help. Renee, please."

"You don’t get to fucking call me that, asshole,” she snapped defensively. After a moment she sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, so hypothetically, when you get there, assuming the Shadows don't eat you, you're gonna...what? Hunt down the monster and punch it in the nose? EMP it to death? Good luck with that. Do you have any idea how  _ dangerous _ that dimension is without a gun and the dropship around to cover your stupid ass? You will  _ die,  _ Park, and you'll stay dead. It's dangerous down there when you’re not in a game."

_ How the fuck would you-- _

_ Oh.  _

Of course. She'd gone there to see it for herself, because he'd been an idiot and refused to tell her the truth about Elliott's...condition...when he'd had the chance.

_ Shit. Does she...know what’s in there? Does she know what it did to Elliott? _

"You've been there.” It wasn’t a question. “Is that why you missed the last day of Shadowfall, busy doing some cave exploration?"

Renee shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze. 

"Maybe. Not really something you need to worry about, Park. I'm not doing this. End of conversation. It’s too dangerous. Why would you even want to go--"

"It's not hard to get ahold of a gun, if you know what you’re doing..."

Her jaw dropped. "A  _ gun? _ Good luck with that, man. Then what, you gonna shoot him?" 

_ ‘Him.’ Yeah, she definitely went down there. She knows about the monster. _

Park tries to steady his voice. "No. I am going to  _ kill  _ him."

Renee barked out a peal of bitter laughter. "Kill him? You don't even  _ know  _ him!"

_ And you do??? _

"Renee, I  _ am _ him!"

She snapped the book shut, finally looking him in the eye again. "No. You're not." 

Park is so angry he wishes he had something to throw besides Jee, who has refused to go anywhere near Wraith ever since their last little encounter.

She sighed. “Listen, Elliott’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Also, you aren’t making any fucking sense, my dude. Elliott hasn’t been leaving the ship at night for a while. He’s fine. Or whatever's hurting him is from our dimension."

_ I’M not making sense?! Really? _

"Forget it. Thanks for your help," he spat sarcastically. He was gone before he even heard her reply. 

It didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t have time for her little head games at the moment. 

_ She was way too calm during that conversation. Has she actually met this thing? Why isn’t she covered in bite marks? Guess I wouldn’t be able to tell, she’s always wearing that scarf... _

It wasn’t too long ago she’d threatened him with her knife because she thought he  _ might _ be hurting Elliott. Now they know someone definitely is, and she suddenly doesn’t care? Something was up and whatever it was, Renee couldn’t be trusted. That much was clear.

\---

_ Curiosity killed the cat. _ It's an old saying, by several hundreds of years, and Tae Joon has never found it particularly enlightening. A more concise saying would perhaps simply be, "Curiosity kills." Not that curiosity is a  _ bad _ thing, per se. It put humans on the moon all those years ago. But it also killed a few, in the process. Another old saying came to his mind:  _ "You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs." _

Curiosity certainly had a record for getting him into trouble. Burning questions such as  _ who runs the Syndicate, why are they rigging the games, and why do Elliott Witt's lips feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick? _ Questions like,  _ what the hell keeps happening to your neck and who the fuck do I have to kill to make it stop? _ \-- that kind of curiosity was really starting to fuck things up for him.

The problem was that Tae Joon was the curious type by nature. When he found a loose thread, he didn't stop tugging at it until the entire tapestry came apart, a dark web of lies unraveled into little strands of truth, lying at his feet.

Thankfully, curiosity wasn't  _ always _ a killer. But truth? The truth often was. The truth was dangerous, and scary, and it would absolutely get you killed, eventually.

Mila had died for the truth.

And yet, here he was, still tugging at those fucking strands. Still unraveling everything. Still interfering in things he probably shouldn’t. But that was the only way he was ever going to be able to sleep at night: seeing that bloodsucking tick dead.

There was another problem, though -- one he wasn't yet aware of: 

Park wasn't the only dangerously-curious person on the dropship. 

\------

Renee is  _ pissed.  _

Well, livid is probably a better word. Renee is fucking  _ livid. _

She’s livid because when she goes back to her room after getting dinner with Ajay on the mainland, her phase-tech is missing from the top drawer of her dresser.

She's pretty sure she knows who took it.

_ Are you fucking serious, Park? _

But the asshole's door is locked, and she can't phase into his room without her armband. She's also not particularly interested in everyone seeing her try to pick the lock. She needs a new plan.

There's a knock at her door.

When she opens it, the drone zooms right past her, into the room.

"WHERE THE  _ FUCK _ IS HE?!"

_ Oof. That came out a little harsh. _

The little drone hovers out of her reach, clearly trying to keep its distance after its previous encounter with her. She sighs, rubbing her face.

"Look, I really don't wanna knife you again, buddy. My problem is with your boss. He's kind of a fucking dumbass, if you weren't aware."

The drone beeps in agreement.

"Mind showing me where he's hiding my stuff?" She wasn't too optimistic, but it was worth a try.

The little robot beeps again and then zooms back through her open door and down the hall. 

Peering outside, she sees that it's hovering outside Park's room and beeping like mad. His door is open now, and Renee is pretty sure the drone unlocked it.

The little guy is starting to grow on her.

Its owner, however, is not. When she gets to Park's door, what she sees inside doesn't do much to calm her fury.

There's an open portal, crackling with energy, in the middle of his bedroom.

If Park isn't already dead when she finds him, he will be shortly after, because she's going to  _ fucking kill him. _

She takes a deep breath -- entering a portal without that armband is scary as hell, especially because she has no idea where it leads.

Though she's got a pretty good guess.

_ Does this idiot have a deathwish? The fuck is wrong with you, Park?  _

If he's where she thinks he is, she has to hurry.

"You coming, little guy?"

The drone beeps, and then it's zooming into the portal.

Renee follows.

  
  


\---------

  
  


"I wondered if you'd be this stupid," it smiles, and the teeth are already out. "Sure took you long enough." It spies the charge rifle, and for a split second those too-blue eyes widen just a little, which is encouraging. 

_ Didn't expect that did you, fucker?  _

It hadn’t been hard to find the monster. All he’d had to do was enter the cave and use his knife to draw a little blood from his hand, like he had the night he gave Elliott that very first blood bag. The second a drop of crimson bloomed from the wound, the creature appeared out of the shadows of the cave. It was smiling.

"You know, despite our little... _ misadventure _ \-- which, truly, I do regret -- I was going to let you have him. He's from your world, after all."

_ Excuse me?  _

"But I've seen you, Park. Through his eyes, actually. You're more of a monster than I am." 

Park forced himself to take a deep breath.

_ Stay cool. He's just trying to rile you up. _

It's kind of working, though.

"I've seen you with my own eyes, too. Seen the kinds of things you get up to in this very cave, in fact." The beast shoots him a lecherous smirk.

Park shuddered at the memory. Elliott's Shadow was terrifying, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't loved every second of it. _ _

_ God, he saw that? Ugh… _

"You know he's in love with you, and you don't care. You just  _ take." _ The creature smiles with that cruel mouth. 

_ Stay calm. You're just talking. Don't let him fuck with you. _

The parasite continues, "I could have kept him, if I'd wanted. I bet he would have stayed of his own free will, too. You always leave him wanting, lonely," its grin is pure evil. "You should have heard the way he  _ moaned _ for me, Tae Joon."

_ Yeah, I think we're done talking now. _

It felt like he'd barely pulled the trigger, but the charge rifle beam had punched a gaping wound in the beast's chest before he knew it. The vile thing staggered backwards, smoke rising from the freshly burned hole, which was so large he could see through it, see the cave wall on the other side.

The beast looks...almost tired. Like perhaps it hasn't fed very much recently. Or maybe it's this ugly all the time. But it's rather odd that it's even upright after taking a blast like that to the chest.

"Where's yours?" he eyes the vampire, wishing he'd thought to ask  _ before _ he fired the weapon. "Your Elliott. The one from this dimension. There has to be one."

"Shut up," it rasps, voice ragged but somehow still working, despite the enormous hole in the monster’s chest. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

_ Ooh, touched a nerve, did I? _

"I don't?  _ Hmm," _ he locks eyes with the creature, "Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I paid him a little visit. Put some holes in his pretty neck and see how  _ you _ fucking like it." 

The second the words leave his lips, he knows he's fucked up. Badly. He can tell from the look on the monster's face, because he's made the same face before, plenty of times. It's not sadness, or pity, or regret. It's pure, unadulterated rage. The kind of rage he feels when he looks at Elliott’s neck.

And somehow, despite having a hole in its chest big enough to fit his fist through, the beast is  _ still _ standing.

_ Uh-oh. _

He’d been expecting the creature to have a few body modifications, because it was him, after all. It did have a leathery sort of synthetic skin on its throat, just like his, but it was brownish with a gold sheen instead of the gunmetal color of his own synthetics. Whatever enhancement made you able to stay standing after getting a hole lasered through your chest, Park didn’t have that one yet.

The creature lunges, and it's on him before he has a chance to react. The charge rifle is batted out of his hands before he can even think about doing something useful with it. The creature is pinning him to the floor of the cave, like Elliott's Shadow had, but this is different. It's smiling, with those fucking teeth out.

He's staring down at the monster's chest, and there's a gaping hole -- a burn -- in his shirt from the energy beam. But the hole in his chest is just fucking  _ gone. _ The skin is blackened, it smells  _ horrible, _ but he's back in one piece, like he hadn't just had a laser beam punched through his chest a moment before...

_ What the fuck?! _

There’s nothing that even comes close to that kind of tech in his own universe. Not yet, at least. Dermal regeneration was one thing, but this was more than just skin, and it was happening independent of any sort of computer or hardware, as far as he could tell. Healing organs on the fly like that while in combat was unheard of in his own dimension.

Park struggles but the thing is  _ strong, _ incredibly strong. Stronger even than Elliott had been that first night he'd fed, when he'd used every ounce of his supernatural strength to pin Park's hips down so he wouldn't hurt himself grinding into Elliott's mouth. 

His heart does that irritating skip-a-beat thing whenever he thinks about that night, even now.

But this, right now? This is  _ nothing _ like that. It feels like his limbs are never going to move again, like a huge iron statue has collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the ground with such force, he already knows -- he's not getting back up. Not without help, anyway.

The monster's eyes are so blue it's unnatural...and just a little bit scary. It leans down over him, one frigid claw tightening around his jaw, tilting his head to the side. He can feel its breath puffing against his synthetic skin.

"I really wasn't going to do this," it breathes, voice pitched down, dark and dangerous. It's a tone Park recognizes because he's heard his own voice sound that way before...usually immediately before killing someone. 

The beast continues, "I wasn't going to hurt you. I wasn't going to  _ take him _ from you. But I  _ can," _ the creature breathes in deeply, and Park realizes that it's  _ smelling _ him, just like the Shadow had the last time he'd been here. 

“That why you’re coming after mine? Your Elliott left you?” Park spat. "Can't imagine why."

There’s that furious expression again, for a split second. The monster sounds much calmer than it looks. 

"Now I think maybe I  _ should _ take him,” it continues, ignoring his question. “You're  _ begging _ for it. Can't ever keep that smart mouth shut, can you?” That wicked grin is back on its face. “It's alright, Tae Joon." 

He shouldn't be surprised that it knows his name, of  _ course _ it knows his name --  _ their _ name -- but hearing it said aloud still makes his blood run cold. He shudders, and the creature smiles even wider, putting those deadly fangs on display. 

The beast leans forward, close enough he can feel its breath puffing against his ear with each syllable.

"I understand better than anyone, Park. I  _ am _ you, after all. And my mouth has a habit of getting me into trouble, too."

And then those cruel fangs are buried in the side of his throat, sparks flying as the monster forces the sharp points through the synthetic skin that covers Park’s neck. And unlike Elliott's soft, sweet mouth, the one on him now is anything but gentle -- it burns, it aches, it fucking _ hurts. _

He hears Jee zooming by and a second later, feels his muscles spasm from the EMP blast. The monster doesn't even flinch, doesn't even  _ move, _ doesn't make a fucking sound except to  _ moan _ because it can taste him now, he knows it, he can feel the thick, warm gush of his own blood pouring from the wounds in his neck.

His vision tilts and starts to swim, then it goes a bit blurry. He's sure he's screaming but nothing comes out of his mouth, aside from the slight gasp that escaped him in the split second before those teeth met his flesh. He can feel sparks burning the part of his throat that's human as the monster's fangs slide through the thick layer of synthetic skin like it's butter. The sparks have to be burning the monster's mouth, too, but they don't even seem to faze the creature. 

When the fangs finally release him, Park can feel the creature's hot tongue slipping over the holes it tore into his artificial flesh, slurping his blood into that terrifying mouth with a lewd sucking sound. Then it pulls back, gasping, eyes watering -- almost looking like it's  _ crying. _ Park knows it must be from the taste of his blood. It's probably the best thing the bloodsucker has had since it sank its teeth into Elliott. 

_ But that was recently...right? Today... _

His thoughts are interrupted when those teeth pierce his throat  _ again, _ just a few centimeters away from the first bite, one fang sinking into his human flesh this time.

_ "Guh..." _ It's not even really a vocalization, more of a pained sort of gurgling sound, but it's all that comes out. All that  _ can _ come out, with his throat being mauled by that monstrous mouth.

It hurts terribly, worse than he could have imagined, but he can't move -- he can't even squirm, it's as though the creature pinning him down weighs as much as a leviathan. So he just...lets go. Lets his mind drift somewhere nicer, because he'll be damned if he spends his last seconds of life thinking about anything but how good, how nice, how  _ fucking perfect _ everything feels when  _ Elliott's _ lips are on him, instead. If he focuses, he can almost see it, feel it, taste it. It's hard to hold onto, because  _ this _ \-- what's actually happening -- feels absolutely  _ nothing _ like Elliott's sweet, gentle mouth, and Tae Joon is bubbling with hot rage, because it hurts  _ so fucking bad _ and he's only just realizing that this is what the bloodsucker has been doing to Elliott. What it's done to him  _ multiple fucking times. _ But there's nowhere for the rage to go, so it just boils over, spilling down the side of his face in a hot stream of angry tears. 

_ I'm sorry, Elliott. I couldn't protect you. I tried, but I couldn't… _

_ I'm so sorry. _

_ ...I love you. _

He doesn't have to suffer through the pain for very long, because after a few more agonizing moments, the world goes dark. 

\--

Tae Joon is pretty fucking sure he's dead -- for real this time -- because when he regains consciousness, he's still on the floor of the cave.

Oh, and because Renee is there, choking him out again.

_ So...is this this heaven or hell? _

He hears the monster speak with his own voice. "Renee, I--"

"Shut  _ UP! _ I will deal with you later!" She sounds frantic, terrified, like she's been crying. 

_ What? _

She yells  _ "fuck!" _ and it's not clear why or at whom, because she then stabs something into Tae Joon's arm, and he distantly realizes she's not choking him, she's putting pressure on the wound --  _ wounds _ \-- in his neck with one of those petite, freakishly-strong hands.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, please don’t die, please don’t die, you stupid asshole, don’t fucking die...”

_ The afterlife is sort of weird. _

He wants to tell her to go, just  _ move, _ because on the off chance he isn't dead, he's done for anyway, and she's tiny and his dead weight is just going to slow her down. She needs to move  _ now, _ before that thing kills her, too. It's definitely going to, and it's a miracle it hasn't already.

_ Just leave me, go! What are you doing?! _

Nothing is coming out of his mouth, because he's pretty sure his voice box is broken. When Renee lets go of his throat for a moment, he feels air being sucked in through the holes in his throat with each wheezing, shallow breath he takes.. 

His vision is unfocused, blurry, but he can see the shape of Wraith's outstretched arm, extended in the direction of the monster. The charge rifle is in her hand. Perhaps she phased behind the bloodsucker and snatched it up from wherever it landed after the monster ripped it from his hands. The monster's face is bleeding now, he realizes, so she must have gotten a few slashes in with that little knife she carries.

_ Okay, that's kind of badass.  _ Distantly, a part of him wishes he'd gotten to see it happen.

The vile creature is speaking again. "Renee,  _ please. _ I'm--he said--if you'd heard it, you--"

"Help me carry him to the entrance, you  _ fucking asshole!" _ Yeah, she’s definitely crying.

There must be someone else there with them, because who else could she be talking to? She probably brought backup, which was smart. And maybe the only reason she wasn't already dead. Hopefully said backup isn’t Elliott. He can hear Jee hovering somewhere nearby, beeping anxiously every few seconds.

Park is waiting for the high-pitched hum of the rifle charging up, waiting to hear the sonic boom that immediately follows. Which will hopefully be accompanied by the screaming howl of a burning vampire. It might not kill him, but a few more hits from that thing will definitely slow the bastard down, and it won't feel good, that's for sure. Tae Joon knows he himself is already as good as dead, but it would be sort of nice if the monster got fucked up some, too. 

_ At least it'll fucking hurt. Bastard. _

But it doesn't happen, which is fucking  _ nuts, _ he realizes, because that thing just called her  _ Renee _ .

_ There's got to be a version of her in this dimension. That's how the monster knows her name _ .

But regardless, the fact that she doesn’t blow the creepy fuck away the moment she hears him call her that is absolutely  _ shocking. _ She's clearly not entirely comfortable with her recently-acquired name, because only Elliott has ever gotten away with calling her that. She'd been  _ furious _ at Park earlier when he'd let it slip out of his mouth. 

He hears the charge rifle clatter to the ground.

_ Holy shit Renee, are you  _ ** _trying_ ** _ to die? _

_ Why the fuck-- _

He's suddenly floating upward from the floor of the cave. This is it. This is the end.

And then, there is nothingness.

  
  


\-------

  
  


There's a knock on Elliott's door. Just one, and it's more of a thunk than a knock, so at first he thinks maybe someone outside accidentally bumped into it while passing by.

_ Thunk. _

_ Thunk. Thunk.  _

He looks up again. "H-Hello?"

_ Thunk thunk thunk thunk-- _

When Elliott opens the door, the drone comes zooming in so fast, it nearly knocks him to the floor.

_ "Ahh!" _ He leaps back as it flies past his head. 

_ Ugh, what is your deal? _

"Yeah, sure, come in I guess," Elliott grumbles sarcastically.

Jee is rapidly orbiting his bedroom, occasionally pausing to hover in front of his face and beeping frantically in an alarming tone Elliott has never heard from it before.

"What is it, buddy? Did little Timmy fall in the well again?" he can't help the snarkiness, the thing is  _ so annoying, _ always hovering around Park and zooming in on Elliott and beeping judgmentally.

Jee sails across the room and throws itself into Elliott's forehead, hard.

_ "Ow! _ What the fuck, you little shit! I'm gonna reset your free will parameters, I swear to fucking god--" he swipes at the air but the little drone is too fast for him.

There's the sound of a portal opening nearby, and then he smells it, wafting in through the open door.

_ Blood. _

So much fucking blood. Everywhere, all at once, and so thick with the scent of adrenaline he can taste it in the air.

Park's blood.

_ NO-- _

A terrified woman is screaming,  _ "HELP ME!" _ and he realizes it's Renee. "Silva, get Ajay!"

There's a brief pause.  _ "Dios mio…" _

Renee is screaming again, "Octane, _ now!”  _ She sounds like she’s out of breath. _ “ _ Path, can you carry him? Hold his--yeah, like that.” The robot agrees, and Elliott hears Renee phase into the Void again.

Silva and Pathfinder’s metal feet go zipping down the hallway, past Elliott’s bedroom door. By the time he turns the corner and darts into the hallway, the scent of blood is so thick and heavy, his fangs pop out before he's even turned around to see the trail of crimson footprints leading towards the medbay. The footprints aren't what's terrifying, though. 

What's terrifying is the absolutely  _ enormous _ pool of blood on the floor, from where Renee had paused to have the conversation he just heard taking place.

_ Oh god, no, please. What the fuck is going on? _

A portal opens behind him, inside his bedroom. When he turns around, the look on Renee's face tells him something has gone horribly, terribly wrong. She's absolutely  _ covered _ in Park's blood, so much of it that her white tank top is stained almost completely red. She drops to her knees, and when she looks up at Elliott, those pretty ocean eyes are drowning in tears. Elliott realizes he's never seen her cry before, and it scares him. When their eyes meet, Elliott goes cold inside, like a sharp bit of ice has pierced his chest.

"Elliott…" she goes to cover her face with her hands but stops, realizing there's blood all over both of her palms. 

"What the fuck is going on?!" he's finally found his voice again, but Park's scent is  _ everywhere _ and he can smell the fear, the cortisol in his blood. Something  _ terrible _ has happened.

"I am so, so sorry, Elliott, I--"

He doesn't hear what she's sorry for, because he's already darted out the door and is halfway to the medical bay.

_ Please be okay, please, please… _

\--

He throws open the doors to Lifeline's medical bay so hard it's a miracle the panes of glass don't shatter. It's not very hard to find her, because there's a trail of Park's blood leading back to the operating room.

He gets there just in time to hear Ajay screech  _ "god DAMMIT!" _ and a few other things he can't quite translate. She says it in a tone so grave and serious it makes Elliott's heart palpitate. That easy-going, Caribbean patois cadence is just...gone. Her voice is cracking and she looks like she's about to cry.

Then Elliott sees what she's looking at as she says it.

The cooler. 

The medical cooler.

The one that Elliott knows is missing several dozen pints of human blood, at the very least.

_ Fuck. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod no no no-- _

"How--what--" she's stammering, trying to process what's in front of her. After a deep, steadying breath, she looks up at Elliott, cool-headed field medic mode fully engaged.

"Witt! Get tha rest of tha team in here,  _ now! _ Evrehbody on this ship need'ta get down here, I need all hands on deck fa dis, ya hear?  _ WITT!" _

Someone's shaking him by the shoulders but he can't really give a damn because he's just now set eyes on Park, and he's dead.

Or very,  _ very _ close to it.

His face is paler than Elliott has ever seen it, and he's completely limp, lying on Lifeline's operating table and absolutely soaked with his own blood.  _ Caustic, _ of all people, has just burst through the OR's swinging double doors, and is scrubbing his arms in the sink, directing Natalie to grab a box of rubber gloves on a nearby shelf, which he points to with sudsy fingers. For some reason, seeing how urgently the scientist entered the room makes Elliott feel like he's going to faint. Anita is handing medical instruments to Pathfinder and taking the huge, bloody pieces of gauze he keeps handing her in return, disposing of them in a biohazard box. Pathfinder is leaning over Park, using some sort of handheld device to...do  _ something _ to the side of Park's neck, but Elliott can't see around the robot to get a good look--

"Witt! Are ya with me? We need more blood. B positive.  _ Elliott."  _ She's snapping her fingers in front of his face but he doesn't hear any of it, because Pathfinder has moved and now Elliott has zeroed in on Park's throat, and the  _ gaping fucking holes _ in the part of it that is covered in artificial skin. 

Somewhere behind him, Silva says, "I'm on it,  _ querida. Soy mas rapido." _ He jabs a Stim syringe into his chest and is all the way down the hall before Ajay can even reply, leaving a trail of brilliant green light in his wake.

Octane's not even back yet but suddenly Renee is there, rolling up her sleeve. "Ajay. Do me, we have the same blood type."

Ajay nods, but doesn't let go of Elliott's shoulders for another moment. "Somebodeh get him outta here." She turns back to Renee, who already has a tourniquet wrapped around one bicep. Elliott’s pretty sure he hears Ajay ask her, "How tha hell did this happen?" but he doesn't get to hear the reply, because he’s being steered back into the hallway by gentle hands.

"I got you, bruddah."

\--

Elliott's head was thick with the scent of blood, but for once, he didn't want to lick it off the floor. All he wanted was to put it back where it belonged -- in Park's veins, to keep his heart beating. But there was nothing he could do now. 

Makoa offered to stay and keep him company, but Elliott waved him off, mumbling, "'m gonna lie down for a bit."

He collapsed onto his bed, and when the tears came, he couldn't even make a sound. All he could think about was the blood. Park's blood. The blood all over Renee's suit and her hands and the floor. The blood in the bag that had been in his refrigerator earlier. The blood that could be  _ saving Park's life _ at this very moment, but was in Elliott's stomach instead, because he couldn't fucking control himself for even a day before sucking it down like the monster he was. The  _ emergency _ blood, which was apparently gone,  _ all _ of it, somehow. He might have thought that strange, if he weren't so completely focused on one single, miserable thought:

_ This is all your fault. He's dying and it's  _ _ your _ _ fault. _

He reflexively jerked away and yelped  _ "No!" _ when the decoy touched his thigh, thinking  _ fuck, not again, please not now... _

But when its eyes went wide with shock and it squeaked and jumped back, too, he let out a sigh of relief. It was the shy one, and Elliott could tell from his puffy, red eyes that the decoy had been crying, too.

"Hey, it's okay," Elliott reaches out to his double, letting the decoy snuggle into his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. The decoy presses a soft little kiss to the most recent wounds on the side of Elliott's neck, and it makes his heart ache because it should be  _ Park _ doing that to him, not bleeding out in the medical bay  _ because _ of him.

The decoy started to cry again.

_ How did this even happen? What-- _

And then he heard the voice. The one that lived in his head, but didn't belong to him. And for the first time, he recognized it, because it said,  ** _"Miahnhe, Elliott. I am so sorry…" _ **

He knew then that he'd truly lost his mind. Instead of bringing comfort, the voice just made him shudder. It was Park. 

Except it  _ wasn't. _

It was the thing from the cave.

Shaking, Elliott couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but ask, _ Did...you do that to him?  _

There was no response.

Elliott whimpered, snuggling closer to his twin and pulling the blankets up around them both. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the day's nightmarish events to disappear like one of his holograms.

But mostly, he was wishing that he could disappear, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUM BUM _BUM._ (Please don't hate me! All is not lost, I promise!!!)
> 
> Also I just uhhhh made up the year, because I have no idea how far in the future Titanfall is set but fuck it, I'm making up names and shit idek y'all. So anyway, that's why it says it's 3019 lol. I also have no idea WTF Elliott's mom & (assumed dead) brothers names are? As always, please feel free to correct me on any mistakes language/lore-wise. Once I'm done with this whole thing I'm gonna go back and edit and clean up some stuff like that, so please leave feedback! I've also been thinking about a title change (maybe!), idk -- what do you guys think?
> 
> Coming up next: Renee has strange dreams. We get to wit(t)ness Thanksgiving with the Witt family and some surprise guests. And of course, a giant helping of moar smutty goodness starring our faves. I'm forcing myself not to write the sex scene until the end so that I'll be more motivated to crank out the rest of the chapter faster, lol.


	8. Into the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would not try that if I were you,” the beast has knelt down to get a better look at her, and he’s eyeing her armband as he speaks. “It will be no less painful the second time, I assure you. You might not survive it.”
> 
> Renee jerks away when that freezing, clawed hand reaches for her. But she’s still on the floor, still dizzy and disoriented, and her back hits the wall of the cave when she tries to scramble away. There’s nowhere to go.
> 
> _Fuck!_
> 
> She squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable pain.
> 
> \------
> 
> In the aftermath of the vampire attack, Elliott is left feeling emotionally sucked dry. Renee attempts to atone for her sins, and visits a faraway friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus titty-fuckin' Christ, y'all. This chapter is SO LONG and I am a MESS. I had to split it into two chapters, so chapter 9 is coming soon, stay tuned! 
> 
> I had SO MUCH FUN writing this one, holy shit. But it got way out of hand so some stuff had to be pushed back -- fear not, we're still getting a Witt family Thanksgiving in the next chapter, I haven't forgotten! It's half-written as we speak. Also it's ADORABLE. And hot. Just saying. Like, omg. 
> 
> I promise this chapter makes up for the end of the last one. I'll get off my ass and make a Tumblr this week. Thanks for your patience, babes!
> 
> Fun Fact: Caustic was originally designed as a good guy! I'm not kidding, Respawn confirmed. Once you're done laughing at the mental image of a good guy who uses chemical warfare and fucking gasses people, keep that fact in mind as you read this cuz I will defend soft!Caustic to the death. He's evil but he's not _bad,_ mmkay? SOMETIMES HE HELPS, MMKAY?
> 
> Ok, he's a _little bit_ evil.

**ATGGCTATACCGATGATTACACTAATGCAT**

**TACCGATATGGCTACTAATGTGATTACGTA**

The letters were displayed on a screen, a monitor of some sort, which was sitting on a metal desk.

It was her desk. Renee wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did.

A young blonde woman in a white lab coat approached her. 

“Dr. Blasey, zees needs your signature.”

Renee took the papers, nodding vaguely in the direction of the blonde girl, who then turned to leave through the same doorway she’d come in through. When Renee looked down at the files she’d just been handed, the letters on the page morphed into the same ones that had just been on her screen.

_ Oh. I’m dreaming. _

She looked around. The room was large, very white, and very...sterile-looking. Something about being in it made her stomach turn. Looking at the open door, she saw a placard with her name on it. This was definitely her office. She was in the lab.

_ Singh. I need to find Singh. Make him tell me what happened to Voidwalker. _

Standing up, Renee noticed her clothes for the first time. They were...strange, for lab work. The white bodysuit looked more like something she’d wear in a match. There was some sort of surgical mask attached, covering the lower part of her face. She wore light green latex gloves, and the number “722” was emblazoned across the chest of the suit in bold red lettering.

She made her way to the entrance, getting a better look at the placard on the outside of her office’s door.

_ Renee Blasey, Ph.D _

_ Lead Scientist, Bioengineering Division _

_ God, why is everything so white? _ The room outside her office was so sparsely furnished and fluorescently lit, the brightness of the white walls and floor was enough to make her squint. Everything was just so...clean. Too clean. Outside her office was another desk, just outside her door. The blonde girl was sitting at it, typing away on a holoscreen.

_ Oh. She’s my assistant. Or...something. _

Noticing her presence, the young woman looked up from her screen. “You need somesing, Renee?”

Renee hadn’t really looked the girl in the face when she’d handed her the papers before. But when she met her gaze, Renee’s jaw dropped.

_ “Wattson?!” _

The blonde girl laughed, and when she spoke again, Renee was absolutely sure -- it was Natalie.

“‘Wattson?’ Am I supposed to get ze joke?”

“I meant, uhm, w-what’s on--what’s on the uh, next floor? Got a little tongue-tied, sorry. Long day. I, uh, k-keep getting lost on the way to Singh’s office. Which one is his, again?” Renee exhaled nervously, averting her gaze. Even in dreams, everything about this place gave her the creeps, especially familiar faces. 

_ Why is Natalie here? This is a fucking weird dream. _

Natalie giggled again. “Good one, you got me! Uh, let’s see, I sink zee number iz 543? Eetz a janitor’s clozeet now.”

“A janitor’s closet? Where’s Singh?”

“Iz...this some sort of test? ‘E’s been dead for years. You should know, you replaced ‘eem!” 

Natalie giggled a little, but Renee didn’t, which caused the French girl’s smile to quickly fade.

“Are you feeling alright, Renee?” She looked concerned.

“Y-yeah, of course. Right. I’m fine,” she rubbed at her eyes. Everything was so damn white in this room, it was unnerving. 

“It’s just, really...bright in here…” She suddenly felt quite dizzy.

Her head was aching, and the light kept getting brighter, and it made the throbbing in her head worse, and it hurt,  _ fuck, _ she couldn’t even keep her eyes open, she covered her face with her hands but it went right through them and into her eyes anyway. Her ears were ringing and it kept getting louder. Why was it so fucking bright?  _ Fuck! _ She dropped to her knees.  _ How could anyone see or hear in here, how could-- _

Then everything was dark. Not even dark, it was empty. Nothingness. The absence of anything at all. It was freezing, so cold it made her gasp, and when she did, she choked, because there was no air there, either. She was going to suffocate, and the voices,  _ fuck, _ what had started as a few distant whispers when she’d been standing in the lab had escalated to piercing screams, sounds of desperation, pain, and terror. The blood-curdling screams were so loud they were going to split her apart, just crack open her skull, there were too many, too loud,  _ there’s not enough room!  _

Renee herself wasn’t screaming because she couldn’t breathe. But the deafening shrieks were undeniably her own, almost as though every voice in the Void was screaming all at once, across all dimensions, all at  _ her-- _

_ “Ahhh!” _

She landed on the floor next to her bed with a thud, woken by her own screaming. She was on the drop ship. 

“Fuck…” she groaned as she pulled herself up, wincing.

Sometimes she dreamed about things that had, perhaps, happened in her past, little flashes of life as Renee Blasey. Occasionally she’d have a dream from Voidwalker’s point of view, or another version of herself in some other dimension, but it was never more than a few moments long, and she couldn’t tell if what she saw was actually happening, or something her mind was making up. It hadn’t been a nightmare, exactly -- though she’d had plenty of those, too -- but everything about the dream made her feel uneasy. Disturbed.

She climbed back into bed, laying on top of the covers, and looking at the clock on her bedside table. 6:24 AM. 

_ God, I’ve been out a while. _

All at once, the previous night's events came rushing back to the forefront of her awareness with such suddenness it took her breath away, like someone had punched the air right out of her lungs.

_ Park. Fuck! Ohgodohgodohgodoh-- _

She seized her phone. There were 5 new messages.

3:39AM  **Ajay:** He’s gonna make it. He wouldn’t have, without you. Don’t beat yourself up fa dis ya hear? If it really went down like you told me, you’re both lucky to be alive. No more limin’ around on unarmed inter-dimensional field-trips, OK? 

3:40AM  **Ajay:** I hope you’re gettin some sleep, girl. I’m gonna try to. Surgery took 9 hours. You need to take it easy, no matches today. You gave a lotta blood. And eat somethin'! Doctor's orders.

3:46AM  **Ajay:** What kind of animal did you say it was that bit him? 

She sighed with relief.

_ Thank fuck. Park, you stupid asshole.  _

She opened the next set of messages.

4:26AM  **Elliott:** Ajay told me what happened. Thank you for saving him.

4:27AM  **Elliott:** You’re amazing. Seriously.

_ Fuck. If only he knew. You’re a monster, Renee. _

Dragging herself out of bed, she picked up her clothes from the previous day, which were lying on the bathroom floor, where she’d thrown them after peeling the bloodsoaked garments off and getting into the shower. She’d been trembling as she watched Park’s blood go down the drain, still dizzy from how much of her own she’d given to save him.

Stuffing the soiled clothes into the laundry chute, she returned to the bathroom. She brushed her hair in front of the mirror, doing her best not to look herself in the eye as she pulled it up into her signature top knot. 

Her strange dream had been set in Singh’s lab, as her dreams often were, but it must have been a dream of a different Renee’s perspective. Singh’s lab was all wrong, and she was in a part of it she’d never seen before.

It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a different Wraith’s dream. A version of her who, apparently, had taken Singh’s place, who lived in a dimension where she ran the IMC’s bioengineering division, instead of the phase pilot testing program. A dimension where Natalie was her assistant, and god only knew what horrifyingly inhumane tasks the IMC had surely tasked them with. 

But what really bothered her about the dream was the end, the way the painfully-bright room had slipped into nonexistence, taking her right along with it. The voices, her voices, all screaming. An airless, suffocating world that was so cold it burned, and flattened her under the crushing weight of nothingness. Oblivion.

Renee was no stranger to nightmares, but fear wasn’t what bothered her about the dream. What bothered her was that she’d seen that place, been in that place before. It wasn’t the Void, if anything it was the  _ absence _ of the Void. The opposite of it, almost an anti-Void. That was the only way she could describe it. It had terrified her when she experienced it in real life, which had happened nearly a month ago, the night before the last day of the Shadowfall games. The night she’d stolen away from the dropship and landed on the ground of the shadow world’s version of King’s Canyon. The night when she’d first gone to investigate the cave. The night when she’d seen the flickering candlelight within it.

The night when she’d met the creature inside for the very first time.

\--

Shivering from the cool breeze that swept through the canyon the instant she’d finished rinsing the Shadow blood from her favorite bodysuit, Renee climbed up over the destroyed bridges area and made her way to the mouth of the cave. For a few moments, she just listened. While straining to hear any sound that might be coming from within, she noticed some of the glowing, red-orange blood of the Shadows she’d killed still stained her suit. It had the consistency of molten hot glue, and she had apparently missed several large orange stains on her right shoulder when she rinsed it off. She’d gotten all of it off her face, but the right side of her neck still felt sticky, and she was pretty sure some of it had gotten into the little strands of hair that had shaken loose from her bun as she’d fought her way through the shadow world.

She wiped a bright orange glob of blood from her shoulder, and attempted to wipe it off in the grass at her feet. It stuck to her glove instead.

_ Goddammit. Those things are so fucking disgusting. _

After waiting a considerable amount of time in the pitch blackness and hearing nothing, she slowly, quietly stepped forward, ducking under the metal support beams that held up the small building at the mouth of the cave. Turning a corner, she finally set eyes on the source of the flickering light. 

It was candlelight, as she’d expected. On the ground in the middle of the cave sat a single cylindrical pillar candle, much like the ones that lit the inside of the canyon’s wooden cabins during the Shadowfall games. It was dripping crimson wax onto the floor of the cave, and the scent of sandalwood filled the air as Renee approached it.

_ Who the fuck is out here lighting candles in the middle of the night? _

“Hello? Anybody home?” Her voice echoed throughout the cave, bouncing off the jagged walls and back to her ears. Her voices remained silent, and she felt a bit stupid, but someone had to be there. That candle hadn’t lit itself.

There was no answer from the cave, or whatever lurked within its depths. Only silence, occasionally punctuated by the flapping of wings.

_ That’s strange… _

As far as Renee was aware, the island was empty of all wildlife. The flyers were all gone, the leviathans standing way out in the water like she’d noticed earlier, so the Repulsor had to be working again. She decided to head there next, once she was finished exploring the cave. 

_ How are there still bats in here with the Repulsor up and running again? Huh. Maybe it doesn’t bother them. _

She spent a few moments exploring the other metal structures within the cave -- none of them seemed like particularly nice dwellings in which to take shelter long-term, but then again, neither did the cave itself. She was starting to feel a little bit silly. But something kept her there, looking, even though she knew before she turned each corner -- nothing was going to be behind it. Each time she felt the urge to get going, she remembered how fucking weird Elliott had been acting about entering the cave, and how shifty Park had been ever since she’d sent him to follow Elliott. How he hadn’t said a word in his own defense, hadn’t even attempted to explain himself when she’d burst into his room ready to cut the truth out of him with her knife earlier that day. 

_ Asshole. _

So as much as she wanted to leave and check out the Repulsor, curiosity always got the better of her, just as it currently was. She wasn’t leaving a single stone unturned, determined not to leave the cave without answers.  _ Someone _ had to have lit that candle.

“Hell- _ oooooooo?”  _ she called again, trying not to be too loud -- she wasn’t eager to encounter more Shadows, especially since the candlelight was already enough to attract them to her location.

Having checked the entirety of the cave’s interior, she found herself back in its center, glaring down at the stupid candle that didn’t make any stupid sense. Stupid though it was, it did smell nice. The red wax leaking down its side had accumulated into a large vermillion puddle on the floor of the cave. In the dim lighting, it almost resembled a puddle of blood.

_ Blood… _

Elliott had been  _ covered  _ in it when he’d come to the common room that night after missing half of the Shadowfall match  _ and _ the evac ship. Park had returned to the ship in similar shape a few days later, with his shirt ripped completely apart, exposing a toned chest and stomach that were covered in painful-looking scratches -- claw marks, really -- that were bleeding profusely...not unlike Elliott’s neck had been the night he missed the end of the match. The same night she first saw the state of his neck.

They’d both had excuses that reeked of bullshit. Holo spiders don’t fucking bite, and flyers only build their nests on the top of jagged, rocky cliffs. Unless Park had borrowed some of Lifeline’s climbing gear, he hadn’t gone anywhere  _ near _ a flyer’s nest.

And then Elliott had missed the evac ship  _ again, _ but there was no excuse that time. She’d left him a portal right into the ship, a guaranteed win. Why the fuck hadn’t he taken it? What could have possibly made him choose to stay in that nasty repurposed shipping container, alone, for even one second longer than he absolutely had to? Elliott was a total pussy, no way would he hang back like that on his own and miss an easy win unless there was something more important there.

_ What the hell was in that little metal shack that could distract him? Maybe a Shadow got him. But he was RIGHT behind me… _

Staring down at the red wax pooling on the floor, it hit her.

Blood. 

_ My blood was on the floor, all over the floor, if that’s--fuck, and he was staring at me like a total weirdo while Nat bandaged me up... _

Renee wasn’t quite ready to drop the v-word, because as far as she was aware, vampires only existed in fictional stories. Then again, Shadows seemed like the kind of creatures that belonged in a horror film, but they were real. Truth was often stranger than fiction there in the Outlands. She wasn’t sure Elliott was a vampire, but she was beginning to suspect he’d perhaps been bitten by some sort of bloodsucking parasitic organism. The sooner she figured out what it was, the sooner she’d be able to help him.

She felt another hot wave of rage crash over her, remembering that she wouldn’t be going to all this trouble to figure out the truth if Park had just done damn his job and held up his end of their deal.

_ Asshole, _ she thought for the hundredth time that day.

In all of the weird behavior Park and Elliott had recently displayed, there were two common factors: the cave, and blood. Renee already had the first part handled, obviously, standing as she was in the middle of said cave, so it was time to introduce another... _ independent variable,  _ as Nox would say.

Removing the glove from her left hand, Renee pressed the point of her kunai blade into the skin of her palm, digging in until she drew blood. A small pearl of red rolled down the middle of her palm and clung to the bottom of her wrist for a moment, before falling to the ground like a crimson rain drop.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a forcefield deactivate, and then she was being yanked back against something -- some _ one  _ \-- with a stone-cold hand pinning her wrists together so tightly she couldn’t move, her attacker’s other hand coming up to grasp her chin and tilt it to the side.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Renee,” said the person behind her, tightening their grip on her jaw to the point of pain.

She was terrified. Not because it had taken her by surprise, which it had, nor because it was bigger and much stronger than her, though it was. She was terrified because it  _ knew her name,  _ and she couldn’t see its face, but the voice in her ear was so familiar that she didn’t  _ need _ to. The creature spoke in a deep, velvety baritone with a thick Korean accent.

It was Park. 

Which made  _ no _ goddamned sense, because Park was on the ship, and she had  _ just _ finished threatening him with her knife less than two hours prior. Based on how terrified he’d looked during their little conversation, she very much doubted he would be brave enough to even touch her, let alone  _ lick her fucking neck, _ which was exactly what he was currently doing. She was itching to phase but she couldn’t do it with both arms pinned behind her, and her kunai had clattered to the floor when Park grabbed her.

_ “Mmmmm,”  _ Park growled after sucking a glob of orangey Shadow blood from her neck, “Not bad, but I think I’m ready for the main course now.”

The beast released her right arm in favor of pulling her left hand up to his lips and dragging his tongue though the trail of blood leaking from where she’d sliced it open. He moaned into her palm as his lips closed over the wound, sucking at it in a manner that was almost lewd. She hissed at the stinging pain, but his grip on her wrist was unnaturally strong, and she was powerless to escape it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” he hisses, finally pulling his mouth off her skin. The tone of the creature’s voice when he asks the question fucking  _ terrifies _ her, because it sounds like he’s hoping the answer is  _ “Yes.”  _

She’s frozen, can’t speak, can’t move -- and not just because the thing is stronger than any man she’s ever fought in the ring. No, she’s frozen because of the freezing, rough hands that are yanking her where they want her and pinning her there. Those cold, cruel hands feel exactly like ones those bastards in the lab touched her with before Voidwalker stepped in to save her. She shudders at the memory. It’s not a convenient moment to have a flashback, but there’s nothing she can do about it. She squeezes her eyes shut, but the tears leak out anyway.

“I’d hate to hurt you, Renee. But we both know you have no qualms about hurting  _ me. _ I never thought I’d get a chance to return the favor,” the beast growls against the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine and goosebumps spreading over her skin.

_ What? Hurting him? Oh fuck, oh fuck, Park didn’t tell me what he found in this cave because he IS what’s in this cave. He’s what bit Elliott. He must have. No wonder Elliott’s acting so fucking weird lately, he’s probably terrified! Oh my god, oh my god, you fucking asshole, I am going to KILL y-- _

“In fact,” the creature drawls on, voice tinged with a sort of lazy amusement, “You have no qualms about hurting anyone, do you? As long as it suits your purposes, you destroy everything you touch. And as one of those destroyed things, I think it’s only fair that I pay you back.”

_ Um, what? _

The ice-cold hand gripping her jaw tilts it to the right, as the other frigid claw releases her wrist in favor of yanking her scarf down, exposing her throat. A moment later, Park’s mouth is on her again, tonguing the part of her flesh he’s just bared. She’s trying not to scream, not to give him the satisfaction, but a terrified little whimper slips out of her anyway.

“You’re scared,” Park says, stating the fucking obvious before grazing her throat with the edges of two impossibly sharp teeth.

_ Fuck, what IS he?!  _

Renee’s heart is pounding in her ears so loudly it’s almost hard to hear the beast’s words.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs softly against her throat. “I’ll be gentle.” 

She can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, and knows he’s lying.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to kill you,” Park breathes in her ear. “You don’t deserve to die. You deserve to live the same miserable, endless existence you forced upon me. You deserve this, Renee.  _ Dangsin-eun goemul-ibnida,” _ Park growls, tilting her jaw a little further and pulling her scarf down even more, exposing the thick vein in the side of her throat, which throbs visibly with each terrified beat of her heart. “You’re a  _ monster.” _

She doesn’t have time to wonder what the fuck Park’s talking about, because he’s about to rip her throat out, and she’s finally recovered from the shock and the flashback and the mortal fucking terror long enough to realize that her hands are free. The monster is still tightly gripping her jaw with one hand, but the other hand released her wrist when it reached up to pull down her scarf.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she grits out, before elbowing him in the ribs as hard as she can, hard enough to make any mortal man double over in pain. He doesn’t move a muscle, he just _ laughs,  _ returning his mouth to her throat and dragging his fangs right over her jugular.

_ Alright, fuck this too. _

With her hands free to move, she activates her armband, phasing out of Park’s arms and into the Void.

But it’s not the Void. The Void  _ isn’t there. _

Then she’s dying. Or already dead, maybe. She’s not in the Void, that’s for sure. She’s floating in…something. ’Space’ isn’t the right word. She’s floating in a vacuum, her body crumpling under the force of the crushing nothingness. When she takes a gasping breath, there’s nothing to breathe, and she chokes instead, feeling whatever air remains in her lungs suddenly being forced out. The suffocating won’t be what kills her, though. The screaming will be what kills her. Renee is screaming, only she’s not, because she can’t breathe. She’s screaming in every other dimension, though, and she can hear them all. Every single version of herself across all dimensions, all letting loose blood-curdling screams, all at the same time, and so loudly Renee knows that if the negative pressure of nothingness doesn’t make her skull cave in on itself, the sheer volume of the screaming will make it explode instead.

She’s paralyzed, too, and she knows she’s going to die here. As much as she’d like to phase to a place that has oxygen, she can’t. It’s almost like sleep paralysis -- her body is frozen, but her eyes are moving. She squeezes them shut, praying the end comes soon. The screaming,  _ fuck, _ it’s  _ so loud. _ It’s in her head and there are so many voices that there isn’t enough room for them all to fit inside. They’re going to crack open her skull if they don’t stop.

She waits for death, gagging and choking because every breath she takes feels like someone has sealed a latex balloon over her mouth that fills with air as she inhales inward, but blocks it from actually reaching her lungs. The screams in her head finally overflow, and she can feel them spilling from her eyes and ears and nose.

Suddenly the screaming stops, and she lands hard on her hands and knees, like the Void has chewed her up and spat her back out onto the cave’s floor. She rips the respirator from her face -- the mask is supposed to help her breathe in the Void, but it hadn’t done a damn thing in...wherever she just was. She sucks down a few lungfuls of oxygen, and then vomits onto the floor of the cave. She’s pouring sweat and can feel tears leaking from her eyes as mucus runs from her nose. When she wipes her face on the back of her hand, it comes away stained bright red, and she realizes it’s not tears or snot. It’s blood, and it’s leaking from her ears, too.

Finally catching her breath a little, she remembers where she is, what she’d just been doing, and she shudders at the bolt of fear that pierces her chest when she lifts her head and comes face-to-face with a pair of leather boots and a pair of familiar,  _ stupid  _ pants with way too many pockets. Gazing further up, she meets a pair of eyes that are even more strikingly blue than her own.

It’s Park. But it can’t be. But it  _ is,  _ though. Kind of?

The man before her shares Crypto’s bone structure, his facial features, and apparently, his voice. But there are differences. The crazy blue eyes, for one thing. The pale skin, almost lilac in color. Like the Park she knows, this one has leathery synthetic skin covering his throat from his ears to his collar bones. His is different, though, and it almost looks golden in some places when the light catches it. There’s a shock of grey streaking through that silky black hair, which is slicked back instead of parted on one side like Park’s. It’s also longer, and covers his entire head, where the Crypto she knows has the bottom half of his hair buzzed off. The man before her is wearing a somewhat ridiculous outfit, but she’s in a somewhat ridiculous dimension so that doesn’t faze her nearly as much as the  _ teeth. _ Park’s canines are longer than the rest of his teeth and both are tapered to sharp points. She can see them glinting in the candlelight when he speaks.

_ “Miahnhe, _ I did not--I thought you were...someone else,” he says, extending his hand to help her up. “Are you hurt?”

Like the Park from her dimension, two of his fingers and the palm of his hand are also covered in synthetic flesh, but the fingernails on his human fingers are longer than the Park she knows, almost claw-like. His voice is different now, too -- soft and gentle, like he doesn’t want to scare her. Whoever he thought she was, though -- he  _ definitely _ wanted to scare that person. And fucking eat them too, apparently. 

Renee doesn’t take the creature’s outstretched hand. She scrambles back, still a little too dizzy to stand but fucking desperate to get the hell away from him. She lifts her left arm, hoping her phase-tech was just having some technical issues before, because she’s not keen to return to that miserable nothingness but she  _ has _ to get the fuck out of there, away from the monster.

“I would not try that if I were you,” the beast has knelt down to get a better look at her, and he’s eyeing her armband as he speaks. “It will be no less painful the second time, I assure you. You might not survive it.”

Renee jerks away when that freezing, clawed hand reaches for her. But she’s still on the floor, still dizzy and disoriented, and her back hits the wall of the cave when she tries to scramble away. There’s nowhere to go.

_ Fuck! _

She squeezes her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable pain. But all the creature does is gently turn her head to the side, examining her closely, then wiping away some of the blood that has leaked from her ears and streaked down the side of her face. He does it so gently she almost can’t believe he’s the same person who, only moments ago, was gripping her jaw hard enough to bruise and forcefully yanking her scarf down, ready to sink those sharp fangs into her. But right now the monster looks a little freaked-out himself, actually.

“You must not attempt to enter the Void from within this cave. Your phasing device can only be safely used outside its walls,” he says, sounding almost...sad about it.

Renee is just sort of staring, waiting for her brain to catch up. When it does, everything comes spilling out of her mouth all at once.

“Wh-what was that place, what the fuck, what  _ are _ you, what--” she stammers, not knowing where to even begin.

The creature huffs out a soft sort of laugh. “You must have many questions.”

_ Yeah, I do. Starting with WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON? _

What actually comes out of her mouth, though, is “Please don’t hurt me,” said with such timidness and trepidation, it doesn’t even sound like her voice.

The creature looks a little guilty, but for some reason she believes him when he says, “I won’t. I promise.”

\--

She hadn’t returned to her bedroom on the ship until nearly six in the morning, after spending hours all but interrogating the creature. The second the door shut behind her, she collapsed into her bed, exhausted. Her mind was reeling, overwhelmed with so much information she could barely process it all. 

_ Elliott’s a fucking vampire. This dimension is  _ ** _so_ ** _ fucked up. _

It was the last day of Shadowfall, but she just didn’t have it in her to play. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, head still aching from her experience in the Void. She slept through the last day of matches, dreaming of cold, clawed hands and a warm mouth with pointed teeth.

When she’d finally awoken and dragged herself out of bed hours later, her sheets were stained crimson. So were her thighs and underwear. 

_ Oh god dammit, are you serious? Ugh! _

She yanked the sheets off the bed, groaning when a painful cramp coiled through her lower abdomen. Her menses had arrived, and it was two weeks early.

_ Guess I better stay away from Elliott this week. _

\--

That first visit with the creature had been quite the mindfuck, but overall, not an entirely unpleasant experience, excepting that horrible Voidless place. The cave creature was far less insufferable than the Park in her own dimension, and she was surprised to find that she actually somewhat enjoyed his company. He was scary as hell on the surface, but underneath he was kind, gentle, and not a complete smartass 24/7, unlike his non-blood-drinking counterpart. And her heart broke for him, for what he’d been though, the things those people had put him through, the fucking monsters. What he was _ still  _ going through because of it. It made her sad, thinking of him spending eternity trapped in that cave, completely alone except for the company of the little brown bat that was always following him. The more she learned about him, the more she pitied him. He’d hurt Elliott, yes, but she understood why, and it had only been once.

But now he’d hurt Elliott  _ again, _ by ripping his idiot boyfriend’s throat out, and that was just not going to fly. Park’s insolent, infuriating attitude was enough piss  _ anyone _ off, but this was unacceptable. Sure, he’d been asking for it, going about things the way he did -- stealing her armband, stealing a fucking  _ gun, _ barging into the creature’s lair with no idea what he was getting into and undoubtedly saying some inflammatory stupid shit to get himself killed. Yeah, Park kind of had it coming. But as much as she couldn’t stand the guy, she didn’t want him  _ dead _ \-- and he absolutely would be, if she hadn’t dragged his sorry ass back to the ship and given him a fuckton of her own blood. She owed it to him, since she was part of the reason the blood was missing from the bank in the first place. But she wouldn’t be dealing with any of that mess if the vampire could just keep his fangs to himself. She’d been sticking her neck out for him already -- figuratively, of course -- but that was going to come to a screeching fucking halt now, because it had almost gotten the Crypto from her dimension killed.

Park would be okay,  _ thank fuck,  _ and she would deal with his unbelievably reckless ass later, once he was back in one piece and fully conscious. Now, though, she needed to deal with his doppelganger. Now it was time to go back to the cave and have a little chat with the idiot inside. Now she had to clean up the giant fucking mess she’d been making of her life, and everyone else’s.

-

She made sure she placed the other end of the portal so that it was just outside the mouth of the cave. It was the easiest way to minimize her chances of encountering a Shadow, and it kept her escape route as close as possible, without her having to actually phase  _ inside _ the cave. She shuddered at the thought of experiencing that again.

_ Fuck that. _

It was a miracle it hadn’t happened to her during a game -- she phased into the Void in the caves on Solace all the time, it was lucky she had never needed to do so during a Shadowfall match. That...voidless place...had knocked her on her ass so hard her head had still ached for days after.

Stepping out of the Void and into the shadow dimension, she noticed the native wildlife was still absent from the island, just like the first night she had visited the cave. Still no light for meters and meters except for the bioluminescent glow of the Leviathans standing out in the distance, and the light emitted by the crackling Void energy surrounding her portal and her left arm.

And of course, the candlelight, flickering from inside the cave.

\-----

Park is definitely, absolutely, undeniably dead. 

He's positive of that now. He’s just woken up in an unfamiliar room, and Alexander Nox is leaning over him.  _ Touching him. _ The man’s hand is on his throat, but he’s not squeezing very hard. Yet.

_ Okay, I’m definitely in hell. _

He jerks away from Nox’s hand, then moans in pain.  _ Everything _ hurts. It feels like his head has been twisted off and surgically reattached.

“Easy,” Nox says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tae Joon doubts that  _ very _ much, but he’s in far too much pain to really do anything about it, and when Nox reaches out again with gloved fingers and gently turns Park’s face to the side, he flinches but doesn’t try to fight.

The man is pressing on different parts of Park’s neck, holding something up to it that’s making a small whirring noise, but it’s too close for him to see what it is. It tingles. Tilting Park’s jaw further, the mad scientist puts gentle pressure on another part of his throat.

_ “Agh!” _

Nox immediately releases him. 

“Are you in pain?” 

Park’s not sure if he should be honest, because he’s positive that human suffering gets Caustic’s dick hard. But it does hurt, _ bad,  _ and Nox doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in making it worse. Which is kind of weird.

_ “Yes,” _ he grits out. 

Park’s throat is sore, and speaking is incredibly painful. Nox turns his back to him, picks something up -- a syringe -- and twists it into the end of a clear plastic tube. An IV bag.

_ Oh. I’m in medbay. _

He watches Nox push the syringe’s plunger down, sending some unnamed substance into the plastic tube. A few seconds later, the pain begins to fade. Park’s head suddenly feels incredibly heavy, and keeping his eyes open is hard. The volume is turned down on the throbbing pain in his throat.

“Thank you,” he rasps, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning back against the bed.

“Your gratitude is acknowledged.”

Park slips back into unconsciousness.

\--

“Welcome back to the land of the livin’, ya barely made it.”

When he wakes again, Lifeline is standing next to him, typing something on a holoscreen. She looks down at him.

“Ya lucky to be alive, Park.”

He nods. “Thank you, Ajay. For--”

She smiles. “Don’t thank me, thank Wraith.”

_ What? _

He gives her a confused look.

“She dragged ya sorry behind back here, and it was her blood dat saved you. We ran outta donor blood somehow, you almost died. Those prowler bites were deep. She’s the onleh reason you breathin' right now, bredrin. Her and that Teflon skin ya got.”

_ W-what? Renee’s blood? Where’d all the blood bags go? Elliott wouldn’t... _

_ Elliott. _

Suddenly everything comes rushing back. The cave, the vampire, the bite--

_ My neck! _

He reaches for his throat, and is surprised to feel smooth, unbroken synthetic skin. 

_ Who the fuck on this ship is even capable of fixing synthetics? _

“H-how much do I owe you? For this.” He points to his throat. It couldn’t have been cheap.

Lifeline rolls her eyes. “Nothin’. Wraith paid the balance, Caustic and Pathfinder did the dirteh work.”

_ Wraith fucking paid the bill? NOX fixed my neck?! Pathfinder...okay, I could see that, yes. _

The shock must show on his face, because when she looks up from the holoscreen again, she laughs.

“Ya, you betta thank her. She saved ya life. Nox just saved ya neck.” She reaches for his neck and he flinches, but she’s gentle and when she touches the place where his throat had been torn apart, it doesn’t hurt. “How ya feelin’?”

Park is feeling...pretty alright, actually. His muscles are shaky and he can still feel the effects of whatever painkillers Ajay must have administered. His neck feels a bit stiff, and sort of itchy in a few spots, but he’s not in any pain.

“I am fine. How...how long was I out?”

“Four days. You free to go wheneva you feel up to it, no hurry. Don’t push yourself too hard, no matches for the next couple’a days, ya hear? You need’ta rest while that new skin acclimates.” She bent over him, pulling the IV out of his arm and pressing a bandage over it.

Park nodded. Renee must have lied about what happened, because Lifeline wasn’t strangling him over the blood bags, nor did she seem to realize his wounds were from a fucking  _ vampire. _

“Take it easeh, alright?”

“Yes.  _ Gomayowo.” _

Ajay nods, and then she’s out the door. The moment Park knows she’s left the hallway, he’s snatching his backpack off the floor and digging his phone out of it. But it’s dead, of course, because it hasn’t been charged in days. Jee wasn’t in his backpack, which was odd.

_ Fuck, please tell me it's not in the cave.  _ He wasn't feeling up to a rescue mission just yet. 

He plugged his phone in to charge and saw there were some clean clothes folded on a table outside the bathroom. Someone must have brought them, which meant someone had been in his room unsupervised, which sucked. 

_ Whatever. _ He was eager to get out of the hospital gown anyway. Hopefully Jee was just charging in his room. After rinsing off in the medbay’s shower, he went to grab his clean clothes, but stopped when he saw the mirror. He was a little bit scared of what he’d see looking back at him when he wiped away the condensation that was fogging up the glass. He took a deep breath.

The damage...actually wasn’t that bad. His synthetic skin had been repaired flawlessly, and he certainly didn’t look like he’d been viciously attacked in the last couple of days. The human skin around his clavicle was healed, probably by a dermal regenerator, but the damage had clearly been severe. The monster had evidently bitten him a few more times after he blacked out, and it hadn't been gentle. There were thick scars in his human skin, from just under his clavicle all the way to the end of his shoulder. The damage must have been too heavy for the dermal regenerator to completely fix. Probably would have been even worse without the nanobot colony in his system. They'd need time to repopulate his bloodstream, since half the colony had likely spilled onto the floor of the cave along with his blood. He brushed his fingers over the raised fang marks under his collarbones. The scar tissue felt strange, but it didn’t hurt.

Once he was dressed, he returned to the main room and was finally able to check his messages. There were two from Renee, one sent the morning after he’d been mauled.

_ “Ajay says you’re going to make it. You fucking better, asshole.” _

Then another, sent just a few hours ago.

_ “We need to talk. I’ve got your drone, so there’s no point in avoiding me.” _

He groaned.  _ That’s going to be a pleasant conversation, I’m sure.  _

He owed her his life, though he was a little worried she had only saved it so that she’d have the pleasure of taking it herself. No way she wasn’t fucking  _ furious _ at him. He couldn’t be too mad that she’d taken Jee, he kind of deserved it after stealing her armband. Park decided he should probably invest in one of those dermal regenerators and keep it on him at all times, because he felt certain he was going to have another encounter with her knife sometime soon.

But really, the only messages Park cared about at the moment were Elliott’s. There were a few.

The first one had been sent the day after the attack. It made Park’s chest ache. 

_ “Renee said you’ll be okay. Please, please be okay. Please.” _

Another had been sent the day after that.

_ “Path and Caustic are fixing your hardware. Don’t worry, I told Nox if he tries any funny business, I’ll show him a magic trick where I make his balls disappear. Permanently.” _

Park snorted. Something about that message made his heart skip a few beats, but he wasn’t sure why.

The last message had been sent the day before.

_ “Please let me know when you’re feeling up to company. I won’t bug you for long, I promise. I just...need to see you. Awake. Preferably back in one piece. Just for a minute.” _

For some reason, the last message broke his heart the most. He’d planned on getting Jee first and suffering whatever hell Renee was undoubtedly going to put him through, just to get it out of the way. But reading Elliott’s messages, he decided Renee could wait for a few hours.

\------

When she got Lifeline’s message that Park was finally up and walking around, she sighed a breath of relief. A teeny, tiny amount of guilt lifted itself from her shoulders.

There was plenty of guilt still resting on them, though.

Flopping back on her bed, she tried to forget the sins she’d committed that had almost killed Park. Sins she was still committing.

She wasn’t doing a great job.

\--

When she’d stepped into the cave that early morning after the attack, she saw the lone candle sitting on the floor near the entrance. A slight breeze drifting through the cave was causing the flame to dance, making the shadows on the cave walls appear to dance, too.

“Anybody home?” she yelled into the cave. A stupid question. Of course he was home.

There was no answer, however.

“Really, dude? You gonna make me do the thing?”

_ Yep. God, why the fuck do I even bother…? _

Making her way over to the candle, she leaned against a large protrusion of rock that was jutting out of the wall and pulled her knife from where she’d secured it on her thigh. Removing one of her gloves, she pressed the blade into the palm of her hand, just enough to make a small pearl of red leak down her palm.

A split second later, the force-field camouflaging a small part of the rocky wall across from her disappeared, along with the hologram disguising it.

When she walks through the secret entrance, she finally sees him. He’s sitting at his desk with his back to her, head in his hands. She knows he can hear her approaching, but he doesn’t look up. When she can see his face, she notices the normally lavender skin around his electric blue eyes is red and a little puffy looking.

_ God, stop being so emo. You’re not even the one who got hurt!  _

When he finally looks up at her, he seems almost confused.

“You came back…”

Renee sighs, rolling her eyes and shrugging off her backpack, which she places on his desk and starts to dig through.

“Yeah, asshole. I came back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude, so that’s really not a question you want to ask right now. You’re pushing your luck already.”

“Renee, I am so sorry. I lost control, I--I didn’t--”

“Save it,” she snaps, interrupting him as she digs around inside the purple backpack. “You are truly an asshole in every dimension. I don’t have time for your  _ ‘miahnhe’ _ bullshit right now. You fucked up, bad. We will talk about this later, and you  _ will _ tell me the truth -- the  _ whole _ truth -- or you can starve to death for all I care. I just came by to drop this off, because I’m leaving for a few days, and I’ll be busy, and I didn’t...”

_ Didn’t want you to starve to death. _

Her fingers finally find what she’s looking for: a rectangular blue box with a strap. A lunch box, one of the fancy ones with its own refrigeration system. She sits it on his desk, zipping her backpack closed and throwing it back over her shoulder. The vampire is watching her closely, hasn’t even glanced at the blue bag she placed in front of him. The look on his face is hard to read.

She sighs.

“Look, we can’t keep doing this,” she gestures to the lunchbox. “This is the last time, we have to find another way. When I’m back next week, I’ll drop by and try to fix the Repulsor. Well, un-fix it, I guess. You know what I mean.”

The vampire says nothing, which makes her feel like she should keep talking, which is dumb, because the longer she talks, the more pissed she gets.

“I had to give two pints to clean up your mess, asshole. Of my own blood. Straight from my fucking arm. All at once. He almost  _ died. _ What the fuck is wrong with you?! And don’t tell me you were hungry, we both know that’s fucking bullshit.”

Looking surprised, he finally speaks. “Y-your own blood? Why--I thought you said that--”

“Yeah,” Renee interrupts again, getting frustrated. “I  _ did _ say that I didn’t take much. But apparently all of it was gone, all the kind he needed, all of his emergency supply  _ and _ all of mine, too. I really don’t think Elliott would do something like that, but who knows. Maybe he’s hungry more often than you, I don’t fucking know, it doesn’t matter. The point is, I am not--I  _ cannot _ do this anymore, this way. It’s putting people in danger, and you’re plenty good at that on your own, without my help. Anyway, this should hold you over until I have time to go check out the Repulsor for you.” 

She gestures to the blue lunch bag. “Don’t drink it too fast, you're on your own ‘til I get back. Fucking...try to control yourself, for once. Make it last. Once it runs out, that’s it, and you won’t even have flyer blood until I figure out how to un-fix the Repulsor. You shouldn’t need to drink any tonight anyway since you _ just  _ fucking fed.” 

He winces as her words. She notices he’s replaced the shirt that was destroyed by the energy beam, so she can’t see the state of the skin beneath it. Part of her wants to ask if he’s okay, physically. The place where she’d sliced open the vampire’s face after dragging him off the human Park’s limp body was already healed, but that charge rifle wound had looked fucking  _ horrifying, _ even after closing up.

_ Whatever. He’s fine, he heals faster than Ajay and Silva put together. He’s still standing, that’s all I need to know. Also, fuck him, he deserves it. I hope it fucking hurt. I hope it still hurts. Asshole.  _

Feeling awkward, she looks across the room so she doesn’t have to make eye contact. Jee is asleep, the little bat hanging upside-down from the canopy over the vampire’s four-poster bed. 

_ Wait, isn’t he supposed to sleep in, like, a coffin, or whatever? _

_ No, do not ask him that, dumbass. _

When she turns back to face him, he’s looking up at her with an expression so full of shame, she almost feels bad for him for a second.

_ “Jeongmal chinjeolhaseyo,”  _ he pauses, then adds,  _ “Oneul wa jusyeoseo gamsahamnida.” _

_ God, it is SO ANNOYING when he does that. He knows I can’t understand him! _

“Uhhh, right back atcha, buddy,” she quips sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She turns to leave, but then stops to open her backpack again.

“I almost forgot. Here’s your book.” She drops the enormous, ancient tome on his desk next to the lunchbox.

“What did you think?”

She shrugs. “Meh. Everybody but Van Helsing and the Count spent 400 pages being giant pussies, and the ending  _ sucked. _ Pun intended. I mean, the throat-stabbing part was cool. But the whole thing with Mina getting cured or whatever at the last second is  _ such  _ bullshit. If you’re gonna turn somebody into a monster, you gotta commit! It would have been so much more interesting if she was just like, ‘Listen Jonathan, I’m a badass vampire now so, like, deal with it and be my human juicebox or it’s over, and I’m running off with Count Suckula over here.’ Okay, maybe not. But for real, all the humans sucked and I was rooting for the bad guy by the end. They even killed his vampire girlfriends! I kinda felt bad for him, to be honest.”

_ That probably says a lot more about your character than it says about the book, Renee. _

“An...interesting analysis.” The vampire is smirking at her, which is annoying because she’s still furious at him.

“Anyway, we’ll talk later. I’m still pissed at you. Try not to fucking kill anybody while I’m gone, dumbass.” She turns away, heading back towards the hidden doorway.

“Renee.”

She stops, sighs. Then she turns back around.

“What?”

_ “Seonmul gomawoyo.  _ Thank you. For the...gift.” He nods to the lunchbox full of blood bags.

“You’re welcome. You can show me how grateful you are by not chewing on every human being unlucky enough to find their way into this cave. Especially the ones that are my friends, okay?” 

Park is  _ not _ her friend. But he’s Elliott’s, and Elliott  _ is _ her friend. Close enough.

The vampire nods, looking miserable and guilty as hell.

_ “Yagsoghabnida. _ I promise.” Every once in a while, he’ll actually follow up words spoken in his native tongue with an English translation. Most of the time, though, he leaves her guessing. Just like the Park in her own dimension.

Renee nods, “Good.”

Then she leaves without another word. Once she’s passed the threshold back into the main part of the cave, she hears the holo force field power up behind her, disguising the entrance to the vampire’s lair.

\-----

Elliott was wrapped in a towel, leaning into the mirror and adjusting his hair. He felt like it would never return to its former glory. It hadn’t been itself since that damn explosion on the train.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Just a second!” Elliott called, rummaging through his dresser. “I’m indecent!”

“Good,” came the reply. 

_ Is that...? OMG! _

Elliott ran to the door and flung it open immediately. And there he was, just standing there in a t-shirt and those sexy ass pants, looking no worse for the wear. Like he hadn’t just had his throat torn out. Like he hadn’t almost fucking  _ died _ just a few days before.

Elliott wanted to throw himself into Park’s arms, wanted to drag him into a tight hug and never, ever let go. Wanted to kiss that pretty mouth and say,  _ “I fucking love you, I’m so glad you’re alive!” _

But he didn’t. Elliott didn’t want to hurt him, since Park might still be sore, might not want to be touched after what he’d just been through. Elliott definitely didn’t want to say what he was thinking. So instead, he looked at Park with tears in his eyes and said, “Come in. Please,” and then moved out of the way.

He was surprised when, the moment the door shut behind him, Park pulled him into a hug and just...stood there, holding Elliott against his chest and pressing soft kisses against his bare shoulder. Elliott’s glad there aren’t any new wounds on his own throat to ruin this moment, because he’s been waiting for it for  _ days.  _ Days that felt like years.

When Park finally releases him, Elliott doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the man he’s falling for and bites his bottom lip so he doesn’t accidentally say, _ “I love you. I love you so much. Please love me back.”  _ He tries to keep the tears from slipping down his cheeks, but he can’t help it, can’t stop them, so he looks at the floor even though all he wants is to spend the next few hours doing nothing but staring at Park.

A tiny little sob escapes him and then Park is holding him again, tilting Elliott’s chin up so he’ll look at him. He gently brushes his thumb across the trickster’s cheeks, wiping his tears and then pulling him close. Elliott can’t keep from sobbing when he breathes in Park’s scent.

“I th-th-thought you were d-dead!” Elliott sobs into his chest. “When I saw you, when Renee brought you back, I thought--I thought--” he can’t even finish the sentence.

_ I thought I was going to lose you. I can’t lose you.  _

Park is petting his hair and shushing him gently. “I know, I know.  _ Shhh, _ it’s okay.”

Elliott pulls back, looking up at him again, and suddenly he’s furious at Park. 

“No more blood bags! Please! I c-c-can’t st-stop myself, you almost d-died because all the donated b-blood was gone. I almost k-killed you! I can’t stop myself, I--” he dissolves into tears again.

Park looks confused. “Gone? All of it?”

Elliott sniffs, nodding miserably. “All of the kind you needed, yeah. They had to do a blood transfusion, like, out of Renee’s arm and right into yours. She gave you two pints. It was kind of rough on her.”

\------

“That’s...odd…” 

_ When I got that last blood bag, there were at least a dozen bags of B positive left...I didn’t even touch Renee’s emergency supply. There were some of mine left, too… _

“Yeah, it was awful,” Elliott went pale at the memory. “She passed out, that’s a lot of blood for someone her size. Ajay tried to stop her after the first one, but you needed a lot, I guess," he paused, looking away before continuing, "You’d both be dead if that thing had attacked her, too.”

“Yes, we would.”  _ Why didn’t it? _

But whatever happened to the blood bags could wait. Talking to Renee could wait. All that matters to Park right now is getting those beautiful brown eyes to stop leaking tears. 

“Please never do that again,” Elliott’s voice sounds so scared and sad it makes Tae Joon want to cry, too. “Get hurt, I mean. Please. I was so worried.”

Park feels guilty. He’s angry at himself because he didn’t even do what he’d gone there to do. He wants to say,  _ “I’m sorry I can’t protect you from that fucking monster. Please tell me how it keeps hurting you. I can’t stand this anymore!” _

But that would mean telling the truth. It would mean telling Elliott it wasn’t a prowler’s fangs that had wounded him, and undoing whatever other clever lies Renee had told to cover for him. It would also mean admitting what he’d really gone there to do, and Part of him was afraid Elliott might be mad he’d done something so idiotic.

And he can’t make any promises. Can’t promise he won’t get hurt again, can’t promise he won’t do something stupid. Can’t even promise he'll stick around.

So instead, he reaches out to wipe away a few more stray tears from that beautiful face. Instead, he says,  _ "Neol jeongmal salanghae," _ and leans forward to capture the trickster’s lips with his own before Elliott can ask him to translate. Of course, once he’s touching that pretty, warm skin, he can’t fucking stop. Because it’s Elliott, and he can never stop himself with Elliott. He doesn’t even want to try.

Park’s hand comes to rest on Elliott’s chest, and he suddenly remembers the trickster is shirtless. Naked, actually, except for the towel. That’s all it takes, he’s already hard.

_ You’re a monster, Park. Fucking control yourself. _

Elliott pulls away for a moment, and Park half expects him to tell him to stop. To say,  _ “we need to talk,” _ like Renee had said in her message. But he doesn’t. He just looks at Park with those gorgeous brown eyes and says, “I missed you. I missed you so fucking much.”

Park wants to say,  _ “I love you, fuck,” _ but instead he says, “I missed you too, Elliott.”

_ Jebal, nawa salang-e ppajida... _

And then Elliott’s mouth is back on his and Park is walking him towards the bed, gently pushing him back onto it and kissing down his throat and thinking how much he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve  _ him. _ Doesn’t deserve to touch him after all the hurt he’s put him through. But he’s not stopping, because Elliott’s sighing and letting out these needy little whimpers that just...fucking  _ do _ something to him, something he can’t fucking control anymore, if he ever could.

He leans back to pull off his t-shirt, and Elliott audibly gasps when he sets eyes on Park’s exposed shoulder, brows knotted in concern. 

“Oh my  _ god, _ baby…” Those pretty eyes are wide as he reaches out, running his fingertips over the scar tissue. “Does...does it hurt?”

“No.” It really doesn’t. The inside of his throat still hurts, but all of the skin -- real and synthetic -- feels just like it did before the attack. Elliott’s eyes are filling with tears again.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay, I promise. Please don’t cry.” It kills him to see Elliott crying over him.

“S-sorry,” Elliott sniffs. 

That just breaks Park’s heart more, that he’d even apologize for crying, for fuck’s sake.

"Don't be sorry."

_ "Mmkay..." _ Elliott's gotten distracted trailing gentle kisses along the scars on Park's shoulder, and it makes him shiver.

_ Does he have to be so fucking sweet all the time? God. _

Elliott's soft lips drag over Park's collarbone and he groans, pulls away for a moment before bringing their mouths together. Elliott sighs into his mouth, leaning closer and smoothing his fingertips over some of the artificial skin adorning the hacker's throat.

Park's been trying to control himself, he really has. But he can feel how hard Elliott is through the towel, and the desperate little noises that escape him when Park rocks his hips forward are so delicious, Park can't help but reach between them and pull the towel away.

He's kissing down Elliott's chest now, one hand jerking the trickster's cock with slow, teasing strokes. It's so easy to get him like this, gasping and needy, and it drives Park insane, it's so fucking  _ hot. _ It's all he can think about when he's alone, jerking off. Elliott just looks so  _ good _ like this, blushing and shaking and letting out those little whimpering sounds that send a wave of lust crashing over Park every single time he hears one. Elliott doesn't just want it, he  _ needs _ it, and he's so desperate for more friction on his aching cock, he's thrusting up shamelessly into Park's hand. Park is certain it's the hottest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. He wants to keep Elliott here forever, shaking and moaning and begging beneath him.

_ Fuck. This right here. This is why I can't fucking stop. I need this. Need to see him like this and know it's because of me, need to make him cum, need to make him  _ ** _mine_ ** _ \-- _

"I missed you so much, Elliott," He murmurs against Elliott's neck, licking along the trickster's pretty collarbones.

Elliott's whining, still thrusting up into Park's hand a little.

"Do you know what I missed the most?" Park asks, lips drifting down and brushing against Witt's sternum. 

_ "Mmm, _ no, what?" Elliott shudders.

Park smiles, looking down at the beautiful creature beneath him and feeling like the luckiest man in the Frontier. He strokes Elliott faster, dragging his lips and tongue over the man’s hip bone and enjoying the surprised little  _ "Ah!" _ that escapes him when he does. 

"What I missed the most," Park looks up, locking eyes with Elliott before he continues, "Is watching you cum."

Elliott blushes deeply. 

\--

"P-please, please, I'm so c-c-close-- _ ah!" _

Elliott cries out when Park wraps a hand around him and squeezes at the same moment he bottoms out, pinning the trickster's hips against his and making Elliott tremble from the blinding pleasure. He's gasping and whimpering so desperately Park thinks he could cum just from listening to it. Witt's always so fucking  _ eager, _ so eager to please, so willing to beg shamelessly. It's so goddamned  _ hot. _

"You are so gorgeous like this, Elliott," he's moaning in the trickster's ear, grinding his hips into Elliott's ass and relishing the way he keeps canting his hips back and forth, thrusting up into Park's hand and then rutting back onto his cock. Elliott whimpers, unable to speak.

_ He's so fucking beautiful. _

"Are you going to cum for me?"

"Y-y-yes, please, I-- _ ah! _ \--need it, please!"

_ "Do it. _ Show me what a good boy you are, Elliott. Let me see you make a mess for me," Park growls deviously against his shoulder.

"F-fuck, oh god, baby-- _ mmmngh!" _

Elliott cums so hard it doesn't even land on the sheets, it shoots across the bed and onto the floor. His whole body is trembling, stomach clenching as he cums, and there's no way he'd be upright if Crypto weren't holding him up.

"Elliott,  _ fuck, _ you're so perfect like this," Park gasps into Elliott’s shoulder, tongue slipping out to taste his skin, slick with sweat. The way Elliott is tightening up around him as he cums is almost enough to send Park over the edge, too. He's slamming into Elliott so hard the sound of skin slapping skin is probably audible outside in the hallway. But he can't help it, he can't stop, it's addictive. The way Elliott feels, clenching rhythmically around Park's dick, the way he sounds, moaning and whimpering and rutting back on it with every thrust -- it's just too fucking  _ good. _ Tae Joon doesn't want to hurt him, but he knows he's leaving bruises on Elliott's hips, around his throat, and around his wrists. Even though he knows they won't last, Park feels guilty, because he's not being gentle. He  _ can't _ be gentle right now, because it's impossible to think about anything but how fucking  _ good _ Elliott feels, and chasing that feeling.

Park hilts his cock as deeply in him as he can, almost sobbing, "Yes, _fuck_ _yes,_ so good…"

"Daddy,  _ please!" _ Elliott cries out when he has an almost-dry orgasm, his cock pulsing as a few more drops of cum leak out of it.

_ God, that's so filthy. So fucking hot. _

Elliott's words are his undoing. They both moan when, after a few more rough thrusts, Park spills into him, groaning "Fuck, fuck,  _ Elliott…"  _ and shaking from how good it feels.

They collapse onto the mattress together, both of them trying to catch their breath. Park pulls Elliott back against him, pressing his lips against the scars on the legend's neck.

_ At least they're fading. Maybe I taught that monster to keep his fucking hands to himself, after all. _

Park feels like a monster, though, for the bruises  _ he _ keeps leaving on Elliott. They’re never deep, or particularly intentional, and the drop ship will have healed them by morning, but Elliott is so goddamned eager all the time and Park is getting reckless and they  _ still _ don’t have a safe word, and--

He’s shaken out of his anxious thoughts when Elliott rolls over, resting his head on Park's chest. He plays with the pendants around the hacker’s neck for a moment before the new scars on Park’s shoulder attract his attention again, and he traces over them with gentle fingers.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Elliott lifts his head so he can look Park in the eyes.

"You're just as beautiful with the scars as you were before you got them," he says softly.

Park reaches out and strokes the part of Elliott's throat that's been mangled by the monster. But he doesn't say what he's thinking, which is,  _ "So are you." _

\--------------

"So, what happened here?" Park is running those metallic sensors in his fingertips along the thin scar on Elliott's right cheekbone.

"Renee." When he sees Park's facial expression, he laughs, "It was an accident. We were at the bar, pretty sure one of my decoys tried to grab some ass. Anyway, she turned around, thinking it was me. That little knife is sharp!"

Elliott winces a little at the memory. Not from the pain. He knows exactly which decoy it was because Elliott may be a slut but he's also a gentleman, dammit, and he would  _ never _ do something like that, especially to Renee, drunk or not. That had been the first sign something was wrong with...the suit. 

"I wasn't staying on the drop ship yet, we were on Solace. I was drunk, didn't think about it, so Mom didn't get a chance to fix it until the next day." She'd been furious at him, too, because dermal regeneration worked better the sooner the wound was treated.  _ "You tell whoever cut up that handsome face that I've got my eye on them!"  _ she'd said, tilting his chin to the right and holding the little whirring device over the broken skin.

"I think it makes me look kind of badass, personally," Elliott winked. It did give him a certain sort of ruggedness. Every girl in the bar had asked him how it happened. Several times. Each.

"And this one?" Park's hand drifts upwards, smoothing his thumb over the scar bisecting Elliott's eyebrow.

Elliott freezes.  _ Fuck. Think of something! _

"Th-that one? It's old. I, uh, p-p-pretty much did it to myself. Accident, long story." 

He hopes he sounds convincing, but he can't look Park in the eye. He's holding his breath, waiting for Park to press him further, because no way is that curious motherfucker gonna let this go that easy. In a moment he's going to touch those bite wounds and ask where the hell they're coming from. 

So Elliott's surprised when Park just nods, leans forward, and plants a gentle kiss on both of the scars on his face.

"Elliott, may I ask you something?"

_ Shit, here we go... _

Elliott lifts his head, hoping his voice sounds more relaxed than he's feeling. "Y-yeah, what's up?"

Park looks a little anxious, too. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but stops himself, sighs, and looks away.

Elliott pulls back, sitting up all the way so he can really look at him. "Hey, what is it?"

Park glances up at him but won't make eye contact for long. He stares at the wall when he asks, "A-are you and Ren-- _ Wraith _ \--" he stops himself again, lets out a frustrated sigh. His eyes fall shut for a moment before looking back at Elliott, and when their eyes meet, Park looks tired. Elliott suddenly feels a little guilty for texting and asking to see him when he’d just gotten out of medbay. He probably needed some rest.

"Are you--are the two of you…" Park stops again, covering his face with his hand and groaning a little bit.

"Are we...what, dating? Fucking?" Elliott giggles. "God, no. I mean shit, I  _ wish. _ Look at her. S'not like I haven't tried, but uh, that didn't go well…" 

Park just looks at him, and Elliott can't quite read his expression, so he continues, "We were still on Solace. At my bar, again. Had a few too many and she ended up in my lap-- _ what? _ It wasn't my idea, she started it!" 

Park is smirking at him now with an eyebrow raised, looking slightly amused, and a little bit skeptical.

"What? She  _ did, _ for real! I was just minding my business, counting tips, and all of a sudden she's in my lap and...yeah," he could feel his face flushing at the memory. "Things got a little heated, I couldn't keep my hands to myself. Scared her off in like, three seconds flat." Elliott sighed, wishing he could get a do-over on that night, so he could fix things.

"Then like a week later she stabbed me in the face," he gestures towards his cheek. "So no, we are not fucking." Elliott tried not to look too disappointed when he said it. "Why, you jealous?" He kind of wants Park to be jealous. Just a little bit.

Park is smiling, though, and says, "No. I'm just...curious."

Elliott snorts. "Yeah, too curious for your own good. That's how this started, remember?  _ Somebody _ couldn't mind their own business…"

Park's sitting up too, now, and has that devilish look on his face, the one Elliott is starting to associate with mind-blowing orgasms.

The hacker leans forward, pressing a kiss to Elliott's cheek and growling, "I don't remember any complaining from you, at the time," into his ear. When Park pulls back, he does that fuckin' wink again, and Elliott's stomach flutters like there's a bat flapping around in his belly. 

Then Park's dragging his lip up the shell of Elliott's ear, sinking his teeth into the lobe, and Elliott can't help but tremble when he feels the warm humidity of Park's breath against his neck.

"Fuck, this is so unfair! I'm still mad at you for almost dying, y'know. You're not getting off the hook just 'cause you're hot,  _ mmkay?" _ Elliott's mostly trying to convince himself.

_ "Mmkay…" _ That wicked tongue is being dragged up the side of his throat, over the scars, and then Park's soft lips are ghosting along his jaw, and he can't hold back a moan when he feels the man sucking another hickey into the tender flesh there.

"You're so-- _ mmmph! _ \--so mean, f-fuck,  _ ugh…" _

"I am not mean," Park murmurs against Elliott's lips, tongue darting out to taste them. "You are delicious." He leans back down and drags his teeth over the part of Witt's neck that he just sucked a bruise into, making Elliott moan lewdly.

He pulls back, reaching out to cup Elliott's cheek, thumb stroking gently. Then he's thumbing Elliott's plush bottom lip and groaning when the trickster sucks Park's thumb between his pretty lips and tongues it. 

"I'm not mean," Park growls again, fisting a handful of Elliott's curly hair and giving it a gentle tug that has Elliott moaning around Park's thumb. 

"But I  _ can _ be." Park smirks, looking absolutely wicked. 

_ Oh my god, yes. Please. Fuck. _

\--

Park doesn't mean to fall asleep, but after they've both made another sticky mess of each other, exhaustion kicks in -- emotionally and physically. Elliott's soft, warm bed and his soft, warm lips just feel too fucking good, Park can't make himself move. So he doesn't. He lets himself relax, for once, and keeps stroking his fingers through those pretty brown curls until the handsome man beside him falls asleep.

Elliott is objectively the most beautiful creature in the galaxy, he's decided. He's pretty sure he can prove it mathematically, too. That gorgeous face is all golden ratios and perfect symmetry. You could genetically engineer the ideal human being, a perfect organism, and they wouldn't look half as pretty on their best day as Elliott does right now, snuggling into Park's chest and snoring a tiny bit. Any scars and imperfections only add to his stunning beauty. 

Tae Joon knows he should leave him alone. Knows he should fucking  _ stop _ this shit. Knows he needs to get up and get dressed and go beg Wraith to return his drone. But right now, even Pathfinder's grapple couldn't drag him out of Elliott's arms, or out of his bed.

\--

Park jolts awake, and for a moment, forgets where he is. The ceiling above him is unfamiliar, and the sun has gone down, so the room is bathed in darkness. 

Elliott shifts beside him, moaning in his sleep. Remembering where he is, Park turns to look at Elliott, and when he does, he almost screams.

There's another Elliott in the room, and it's standing over the Elliott next to him, watching him sleep. It's  _ not _ Elliott though, it can't be, because the look on its face is one he's never,  _ ever _ seen on the trickster's face before. It's a look of pure evil. 

The Elliott next to him flinches, mumbling in his sleep, "Please, no. Not again, please,  _ please…" _

The Mirage at the foot of the bed grins wickedly down at Elliott, licking its lips and gripping the obvious hard-on that is tenting the front of its holosuit. Almost like it's enjoying watching Elliott have a nightmare, like it's  _ turned on _ by it _ . _ Once Park collects himself enough to move, he sits up. 

_ What the fuck? _

The decoy looks at him. It's just as beautiful as Elliott, except that it's fucking  _ terrifying.  _ Park can't even say why, really -- it's a perfect replica of the Elliott laying next to him, who is still squirming and whimpering in his sleep. It looks exactly like him. But something is different about this decoy, something is  _ wrong _ with it.

Park realizes the real Elliott's not even wearing the holo-suit. He's been naked since before Park arrived, the suit is folded up on the loveseat across from the bed.

_ So, how did-- _

_ "NO!" _ Elliott jerks into consciousness, jolting upright. The moment his eyes open, the decoy vanishes into thin air.

"Elliott,  _ shhhh, _ hey," Park's heart is aching again because Elliott looks  _ so  _ scared, tears are spilling down his cheeks and he's covered in sweat, gasping for air. 

"You're okay, it's me," Park gently puts an arm around him. "Come here."

Elliott's fully awake now, and he's trembling, tensed up, looking so terrified it's hard for Park to even look at him, because seeing him look like that is even scarier than looking at that decoy.

"It was just a dream," Park murmurs, more to himself than Elliott, honestly. "You're okay."

_ Was I dreaming, too? _

Park's pretty sure he must have been. He's no stranger to night terrors -- which aren't that bad, really, because he usually can't remember them -- or sleep paralysis, or garden-variety nightmares, which is what this appears to have been. Rather odd that they both had a nightmare at the same time, though.

Then again, Elliott did seem pretty traumatized by what had happened to Park in that cave. Park was totally fine,  _ obviously, _ but seeing Elliott that sad was definitely enough to give him nightmares, too.

Elliott gasps out a soft little, "S-sorry," pulling back and wiping at his eyes. "Bad dream."

Park's heart feels like it's going to snap in half, he wishes he could use his neural link to go into Elliott's mind and beat the shit out of whatever in there has dared to hurt him, even in his dreams. Park has managed to numb himself to most of the atrocities and unfair circumstances of the cruel world in which they live, but watching Elliott cry is the one thing he just cannot stand to witness. Elliott doesn't deserve this.

Park pulls Elliott back into his arms, and Elliott lets him, scooting closer and leaning into his chest. 

He strokes Elliott's hair, murmuring, "Don't be sorry," again as he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head.

\---

When Park wakes up again, it's still dark, but the way the sky has turned a light blue tells him it's early morning. As much as he'd love to spend the next 48 or so hours doing nothing but making Elliott cum, he's got other tasks to take care of.

Elliott lets out a soft little  _ "mmm" _ sound when Park carefully extricates himself from the bed. He really doesn't want to wake Elliott up. Goodbyes are weird and awkward and Crypto tries to avoid them, preferring to just vanish into the night. In fact, sometimes he's a little jealous of Elliott's ability to disappear into nothingness at will. That holosuit would come in handy, though he knows if it were his, he'd spend every minute of every day cloaked in its invisibility. Everything would be so much easier that way. For everyone.

But then he's looking down at the trickster's sleeping form and his heart is aching because he's realizing that after what happened -- after what Park put him through -- letting Elliott wake up alone and confused would be kind of a dick move. He does have to get going, though, because every minute he spends in here is another minute Renee has to fuck around with his drone. 

She may have no memories, but Park has noticed Renee certainly has no shortage of technological prowess, and he's kind of afraid if he doesn't get moving soon, she's liable to hack all his secret-est secrets out of the drone and reprogram it to call him Asshole or something. Jee wouldn't last long under her interrogation tactics -- the bot's A.I. is just an extension of Park's own consciousness, thus it’s as susceptible to pretty girls with sharp knives as he is. He needs to get the drone back before she has it downloading all the skeletons in his closet right to her phone.

Park doesn't do goodbyes.

Usually.

Reaching out to smooth a hand over Witt's bare shoulder, he leans down and trails a few kisses up the side of his neck. When Elliott stirs, letting out a soft little  _ "mmph" _ sound, it takes every ounce of Park's self control not to creep back under the covers with the goal of pulling a few more of those delicious little noises from him and waking the trickster up with his tongue…

He sighs.  _ Fucking. Control. Yourself. _

Instead, he nuzzles Elliott's neck and murmurs, "Hey, I've got to go, I--"  _ Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou please love me--  _ he stops himself, saying instead, "I'll be watching your matches today, since I can't play this week. Better win one for me."

Elliott, who is only half-awake, mumbles a soft  _ "Mmkay…" _ and rolls over onto his back. The blankets have shifted down so that they rest just below his hip bones, barely covering his nudity. His bare torso is fully exposed, as is the little trail of soft, dark hair that starts below Witt's navel and leads down to where Park is dying to put his mouth.

_ Jenjang! Why does he look so damn good like this? How is he real? How is something that's not made of metal or plastic this flawless all the time, every day, always? Fuck, why do I want to lick those perfect abs?  _

_ Shit. _

_ Why can't I stop? _

Exercising every remaining ounce of his self-control (which isn’t much), Tae Joon runs a hand through that curly brown hair and presses a tender kiss to the trickster's cheek, softly murmuring, "I'll see you later. Good luck out there today, Elliott." Elliott lets out a happy little humming sound and snuggles into the pillow Park had just been lying on. 

_ Fuck, again with the sounds. You're killing me, Elliott. _

Something about seeing such a brave, bloodthirsty, performative loudmouth completely come apart at Park's touch, at his  _ words _ \-- it drives him insane. Elliott's so overconfident and cocksure and talkative in the ring that seeing him like this -- quiet, barely-awake, soft-spoken, all shy and sweet -- fucking  _ does _ something to Tae Joon. Seeing Elliott confidently kicking ass in the ring and knowing that later, that same confident ass-kicker will be in Park's bed, whimpering and moaning and begging for his dick, begging Park to  _ give it to him _ \-- it's so ridiculously hot that Park is half-hard just from the split second he's spent thinking about it. 

Having the famous, legendary Mirage pinned beneath him, whining and pleading so submissively, rutting up into Park's palm or against his thigh so eagerly, begging for permission to cum, fucking calling him  _ 'Daddy,' _ \-- it's like a drug, and Park is already addicted. The way the man looks with that beautiful body writhing and shuddering under Park's hands, muscles tensing from the pleasure, hips thrusting up involuntarily, that beautiful, warm skin exposed to Park's greedy mouth, with a rosy blush blooming across his cheeks and ears and chest,  _ fuck, _ it's so god damned hot, knowing  _ he's _ the reason Elliott's moaning and whimpering, knowing  _ he's _ the reason the famous legend is begging to be fucked. Elliott's so eager to please him, wants so badly to be  _ good. _ And the way he fucking  _ cries _ when Park finally lets him cum,  _ fuck, _ the way he sobs out  _ "thank you, thank you, oh my god," _ \-- it's impossible for Park to resist, and makes it impossible for him to control himself. Crypto knows he's fucked, he knows he'll never be able to make himself stop.

Because he doesn't  _ want _ to stop.

After taking another moment to just look at him and appreciate the trickster's beautiful form stretched out before him, Park sighs and, remembering the way the decoy in his dream had stared at Elliott, watching him sleep while rubbing itself, Park forces himself to look away and start getting dressed, feeling slightly guilty for being such a voyeuristic creep. 

_ It'd help if you could stop being such a beautiful human, though. _

Once he's out in the hallway, he stops, pulls out his phone, and sends Elliott a message, so he has something nice to wake up to. 

\--

As Park passes the medical bay, he notices it appears that the locking mechanism on the glass doors to Lifeline’s emergency clinic have been replaced. There’s a poster taped to the glass with two words printed in a large, red font: 

**“BLOOD DRIVE”**

_ Fuck me.  _

It was possible Ajay hadn’t yet murdered him because murdering patients in one’s care is generally a practice that is frowned upon by the medical community **. ** With those stolen blood bags, though, she might just make an exception for him. But since she hadn’t had D.O.C. electrocute him the moment he regained consciousness, that must mean she didn’t have a reason to suspect him, at least not yet. If she did, she wasn’t confident enough in her suspicions to accuse him. Regardless of  _ who _ she suspected, there was no doubt -- she had definitely noticed they were missing, if she’d had to do a direct blood transfusion to save him. The real question was if she knew  _ why  _ they were missing, or what they’d been used for.

_ How were  _ _ all _ _ of them gone? Shit, and now there’s going to be a fucking blood drive?  _

Park rubbed his face, sighing.

_ One thing at a time. _

Park doesn't frequent the common room like the rest of the legends do. But it's 6AM, so everyone's still asleep. He's thirsty and  _ very _ hungry, he suddenly realizes, so he decides to stop by the kitchen to get something to eat. 

Once his breakfast has materialized under the replicator, he takes the warm bowl of  _ tteokguk  _ over to the counter, leaning against it while he eats so he can keep an eye on the common room.

When his gaze falls on the figure who is perched on one end of the large white couch that sits in the middle of the room, he nearly chokes on a mouthful of rice cake.

It's Renee-- _ goddammit _ \--it's  _ Wraith, _ just sitting there, reading her book -- on an e-reader this time -- and twirling that kunai blade between nimble fingers. She looks up when he coughs -- well, and because her voices probably informed her that an idiot is looking at her -- and when their eyes meet, she smiles.

"Glad to see you back in one piece, Park."

_ You sure about that? Kinda looks like you want to poke some more holes in me. _

"Thank you," he says, eyeing her warily. There's an awkward pause. "I owe you my life. You shouldn't have paid fo--"

She waves away his words before he can get them all out, and motions for him to come over to her. Grabbing his bowl of rice cake soup, he cautiously approaches the area of the common room where she's sitting. Park leans against the back of the couch opposite the one Renee is sitting on, but he doesn't take a seat. She makes him uneasy, and he feels like he's never going to get used to seeing her in normal clothes, seeing her with her hair down, just reading a book. Until quite recently, he's never seen her wear anything but her bloodsport gear. Seeing her do anything other than kill the shit out of people is kind of terrifying, but Park's not sure why. Something about it just throws him off.

Renee gestures to the couch he's leaning against. "Sit down."

_ Yeah, I'm good. _

"I'll stand, if that's oka--"

"Park," she interrupts tersely, "Sit the fuck down."

Park sits the fuck down.

"Here's how this is gonna go: you're gonna shut up and actually listen to me for a few minutes, then you're gonna nod your head and say you understand, then you're gonna do exactly what I say. Is that clear?"

Park nods silently, eyeing the vicious little knife she's spinning between her fingers with a bit of trepidation.

"Alright, so, we gotta establish some ground rules. First one is, you ever touch my stuff without permission again, EVER, for ANY REASON, I kill you. Period. And I will  _ not _ be donating my blood to revive your stupid ass again, so you will stay dead, and Elliott will cry forever, and that will be all your fault. So. You're not gonna do that shit again, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Second rule: If you love him,  _ start fucking acting like it. _ Text him back. Stop fucking him and disappearing. Stop making him cry. That's the only reason you're alive right now, honestly -- because you being gone makes Elliott cry. In fact, I just spent the last four days having to listen to him cry, non-stop, over your stupid ass. So, you're gonna cut that shit the fuck out, you're gonna stop being so goddamned shady, and start acting like a human being. My previous threat still stands -- if you hurt him, emotionally or otherwise, I  _ will _ destroy you. Got it?"

_ "Yes. _ Got it." Park can't make eye contact -- as much as he'd like to be glaring at her, he can't. Because she's right, about everything. It's very annoying.

"Rule number three: you're going to stop being a total fucking weirdo 24/7 and avoiding me. Elliott's my best friend...my only friend. I can share, but you have to, too. That might mean enduring my presence sometimes, even when you don't feel like it. That's what you do when you love someone, you put up with their annoying friends instead of isolating them from the people they care about. So you're gonna have to get the fuck over whatever your problem with everyone is, because every last idiot on this goddamned ship -- even Caustic, that fucking creep -- cares about Elliott. Just because you care about him too doesn't mean he belongs to you."

She pauses, and takes a deep breath, and for a moment, Park thinks she's finished. She isn't.

"Look, you're a ghost. I get it. Trust me. But Elliott isn't a ghost. And he shouldn't have to become one for you. He's a ray of fuckin' sunshine, so you're gonna have to come out of the shadows, or at least meet him halfway. I don't know what you're hiding from or why, and I don't care, but your weird, grumpy bullshit is getting really fucking old, dude. And it's going to hurt Elliott. And then I'll have to hurt you. Got it?"

He nods again, but inside he can't help but think, _ Oh, suddenly we care about hurting Elliott now? What is with you, seriously? _

Park wants to ask her about the monster, why she didn't  _ fucking shoot it,  _ why she let it call her  _ Renee, _ but he's not 100% sure that wasn't just a dream or hallucination, as he was busy spilling a third of his blood supply all over the cave floor when it happened. He wants to scream at her, drag her back to Elliott's bedroom by her wrist and make her look at his throat, make her look at what the creature did to him, force her to see the truth. Force her to give a shit. He wants to ask her why she saved his life. Ask her why she covered for him. Ask her why the monster didn't kill her, too. But he doesn't, because he's pretty sure he knows the answer. 

Park is positive Wraith's a vampire, too. That she went to investigate the cave, got bitten and was turned. It's the only thing that makes sense. It would explain all the missing blood bags, because he and Elliott  _ definitely _ didn't take them all. But if there's another vampire on the ship, then that's where they went. He can't get a good look at her neck, because it's always hidden under that scarf, and when it isn't -- like right now -- her hair is down and in the way.

Park can't be too upset with her over the scar she left on Elliott's pretty face. He himself had nearly broken Elliott's arm the very first time they spoke, when Elliott caught him by surprise and his killer instincts kicked in and before he knew it, he had the man bent over with his arm twisted back, almost to the point of breaking. Park had felt a bit guilty when he snapped out of it. And he wasn't the only person on the ship with PTSD -- god only knew what horrors Renee experienced down in Singh's lab. He assumed that the face-slicing incident was probably a similar situation -- an involuntary knee-jerk reaction to a trigger, being touched. He understood that kind of thing well. Too well.

He also couldn’t be too mad at her for kissing Elliott. Firstly because duh, look at him. Everyone with functioning eyeballs wants to kiss Elliott Witt. But also because he had no right to feel any type of way about that, as Park wasn’t yet in either of their lives when it happened. Well, he was in their lives, actually, they just hadn’t known it at the time, because he’d been busy sneaking around King’s Canyon and blowing shit up. Wraith had actually nearly caught him, twice, but he was fairly certain she didn’t realize what she’d seen and wasn’t aware he was the same person she’d walked in on that day in Singh’s lab. She had seemed far more interested in the voice log she found near the observation booth. But mainly, he couldn’t be mad at her for kissing Elliott because he had done the exact same thing -- gotten Elliott good and drunk and climbed all over him -- at the very first opportunity. At least Renee had managed to control herself before things got out of hand.

And  _ fuck, _ she'd paid for his synthetics to be repaired. That had been his first worry, once he realized he was alive --  _ who patched up my neck, and how bad of a job did they do? _ Ajay was a great medic, but she wasn't a bioengineer and she didn't have much experience working on humans with hardware, aside from the strings she pulled to get Silva his legs. The synthetic skin was Park’s most expensive body modification, more expensive even than the AR interface implanted in his eye. Skin is a large, complex, sensitive organ. Getting synthetic skin to successfully acclimate was often difficult and painful. And itchy. It made sense that Nox and the robot were capable of performing the repairs, but getting the resources? A repair for the kind of damage that monster inflicted on him would be insanely costly. Like, in the hundreds of thousands of Apex Coins, and you damn sure couldn't pay for these services with legend tokens or crafting metals. Having the skin applied in the first place had cost an insane amount -- but the money Park used to pay the bill hadn't exactly been acquired via...legitimate means...so it didn't really matter then.

But now someone had spent their own money on it, money that was likely in short supply, as Renee Blasey's bank account was likely tied to the IMC and thus inaccessible to Wraith, even after she discovered her identity. The games paid well, especially if you won (and Renee won frequently). But aside from the money she made in the ring and whatever money the Syndicate gave her in return for her help facilitating the Shadowfall games, it didn't sound like she had a lot of savings to speak of. She lived on the ship, one of only a few legends that didn't have an actual home -- an apartment, a house, a family member's home -- on some planet somewhere, to return to for vacations, holidays, and the Games' off season. In fact, Park was the only other legend in the same situation, housing-wise. Even Pathfinder had an apartment. Nox had an underground lair on Gaea. Elliott had his family home on Solace, and his own little apartment. Wattson's father left her everything in his will, including the house.

Renee had nothing.

_ Shit, and she's paying for therapy. _

All the legends had fairly good health insurance, obviously, provided through the Syndicate. But things like therapy for Void-related amnesia and phase-shifting auditory hallucinations caused by interdimensional travel, or repairs on an artificial body part that's been torn apart by a supernatural being -- those kinds of things weren't covered under the Legendary insurance policy. Those kinds of treatments were also not cheap.

And now Renee was paying for  _ both _ of those things. After saving his life twice -- first in the cave, then again with the blood transfusion -- then paying the bill for one of the costliest repairs his cybernetic bits had ever needed, she had proceeded to then  _ lie _ for him, instead of just covering for herself.  _ Why? _ She could have told Lifeline what really happened -- that he'd broken into her room, smuggled a gun on the ship,  _ stolen _ her phase-tech and used it to do exactly what she had explicitly told him not to, that she followed him there and saved his ass. Hell, she could have told them his wounds were inflicted by a fucking  _ vampire _ and that Elliott was a vampire, too, and that Park and Elliott were the blood theives. She could have simply decided not to give more blood after she passed out during the first transfusion. Hell, she could have refused to do the transfusion at all, she's fucking  _ tiny _ and now Park had taken four times as much blood from her as Elliott had  _ ever _ taken from him in a single sitting.

_ I am in her debt now. Forever, probably. _

She had given him way more money than she had to spare, and given him way more of the very thing that kept her alive than she ever should have been allowed to. And then she fucking brought clean clothes to his hospital room. She must have -- she was the only one who could get into his bedroom with the door locked. How she got Jee to willingly go near her was anyone's guess, but she had the drone now, and Park needed it back.

So as much as he wanted to force her to tell him the truth, as much as he wanted to reach out and move her hair out of the way so he could see her throat and check it for bitemarks, he couldn't.

_ Would a blood transfusion on me even work, if she's a vampire? They do have blood. _

The nanobots would have scrubbed it of anything harmful, just like they had protected him from the venom of the cave monster's multiple bites. But he wasn't sure vampire blood was... _ alive, _ exactly. Or viable for a successful blood transfusion.

If Renee really was a vampire, she was pretty alright, as far as monsters go. It would explain why her eyes were so freakishly blue. And Park wasn't too worried -- he doubted she was the source of the scars all over Elliott’s neck, but for some unfathomable reason, she didn’t seem too keen on murdering the thing that had put them there. Regardless, he owed her -- big time. Now was not an...appropriate moment for an interrogation.

_ "Nae saengmyeong-eul guhaejwo seo gomawo," _ he couldn't look her in the eyes as he spoke, _ "humchyeoseo geojismalhaeseo mian haeyo…" _

"You wanna try that again? Like, in English, preferably?"

"Thank you, Ren-- _ sorry _ \--Wraith. Thank you for saving my life.  _ Miahnhe, _ I am sorry that I lied to you. I am sorry that I stole what was yours." He's not even sure if he's referring to the phase-tech or to Elliott's friendship, but he's sorry for stealing both. 

She shrugs, like it's not a big deal, but something about her expression seems terribly sad.

"What did you...tell them? The others."

Renee sighs, setting her ebook on the coffee table. Park glances at it.

_ A Crack in Creation _

_ Jennifer Doudna, Ph.D _

Renee looks down at her hands.

"I told them I was showing you how the armband works, we accidentally phased you into a dimension with dangerous wildlife, and I barely managed to get you out of there alive," she sighed, still staring at her hands, "It's not  _ technically _ a lie, depending on your definition of wildlife…anyway, as far as they know, it's a prowler bite."

Tae Joon really means to mumble out another awkward  _ "Thank you," _ and get going.

Instead, he blurts out, "I owe you. My life. But also for this," he points to his newly-repaired synthetic skin, "Why did you do that? It must have cost...why--why did you--"

"Because Elliott loves you, you dumb fuck!" she interrupts, sounding exasperated. A rather awkward moment of silence follows before she says, "I told you before, when you do dumb shit,  _ I  _ have to listen to Elliott cry about you for days and days. If I have to spend anymore time listening to him whine and worry about your reckless ass, I'm going to barf, for real. He would have absolutely  _ lost his shit _ if you came back with that artificial skin in anything less than perfect condition. You  _ know _ he would have."

She's right, of course. The scars on his shoulder weren't even that bad, but Elliott had still wept when he first saw them. The memory sent a stabbing pang of guilt through Park's chest.

"How much do I owe you? Please let me repay you."

"Fuck off, we're not doing this. It's already done. You wanna self-flagellate, do it somewhere else. Go thank Path and Caustic, they're who really saved your ass. I'm outta here," she stands up, snatching her ebook and turning to go.

Park lets out a frustrated sigh. "May I have my drone back now, please?"

Renee huffs out a little laugh. "Right, yeah. Hey, Jee!"

The door to her bedroom unlocks itself and opens, and a moment later, Jee comes floating down the hallway, beeping excitedly when it sees Park.

_ So you're on a first name basis with my robot, who has been hanging out in your room (?!) but  _ ** _I'm_ ** _ not allowed to call you by your first name?  _

_ Eh, maybe that's fair. Not like she's allowed to use mine, either... _

"I think it missed you," Renee says with a smile, nodding to the drone, who is now orbiting Park's head and making a happy little whirring sound. 

Then she winks at him, before phasing out of the room in a flash of indigo light.

\-------

When Elliott wakes up, he's sad to see Park's side of the bed is empty, until he remembers the man had actually kissed him goodbye earlier, waking him gently to tell him he was leaving, but following that up with  _ "see you later." _

And when Elliott checks his phone, there's a new message from his favorite person.

_ "Win a match today and I'll have a surprise for you later." _

_ Oooooh… _

\--

It's the end of the day, and Elliott hasn't won a single match, but he's not giving up yet. It’s the last day of duos. There are only 2 other squads left, and his squadmate is Renee -- even if they don't win, it's been a good day.

He can hear the other squads fighting each other about 250 meters ahead of him, and occasionally catches a glimpse of the gunfire. 

He looks at Renee, who is watching the other squads through her sniper optics. "You wanna third party?" 

She looks at the map. "Y'know, usually I'd say yes, but we're already in the next ring. I've got a feeling. Let's let them come to us."

"Mmkay, but if we lose, it's your fault. Just sayin'." 

Renee rolls her eyes, peering back through the sights on her triple take. Both enemy teams are still going at it, just outside Capitol City.

The blaring alarm indicating the end of the round sounds, and a few moments later, the ring begins to move.

One team gets caught in the ring, so it only takes a few hits for the other squad to finish them off as they run towards the city.

Elliott pulls out an arc star, aiming as carefully as possible at Bangalore's forehead. It breaks her already-damaged shield on impact and when it detonates, they both hear the telltale cry of  _ "Motherfucker!" _ informing them she's been downed by the blast.

"Nice!" Renee is beaming at him. 

Elliott's happy that things are back to normal between the two of them. Finally, some of the awkwardness seems to be fading, and she isn’t avoiding him anymore. Elliott isn't sure why that is, but he's damn grateful. He's missed her.

She's aiming down her sights at Natalie, the only remaining member of the squad, but stops, because Natalie decides to do the dumbest thing ever: try to revive Bangalore. She manages to pull Bang up, but a well-aimed bullet from Elliott's G7 puts her back down, and Natalie doesn't stay to help her up because the ring has caught up to them. A few more G7 hits and a single tic from the ring turns Anita into a deathbox, and Wattson must have stuck around too long trying to help her because now the ring has caught up with her, too.

Natalie yells a few choice words in French when she starts taking ring damage, and both Elliott and Renee fire a perfectly-aimed shot at her head at the exact same moment, killing her instantly and winning the game.

_ "We have our Apex Champions!" _ rings through the island as all the screens in the arena shift to display Renee and Elliott's banners.

"FUCK YEAH!" Renee pulls off the helmet on her VoidWalker suit and shakes her hair out a little before firing off a few celebratory shots.

"We did it!" Elliott scoops her up in his arms and spins her around, making her laugh.

Elliott hasn't eaten in about five days, and no way is he saying anything about it to Park, because he’s only been conscious for one of those days, and  _ “Hey I know you just had a life-saving blood transfusion but can I suck your blood, please?” _ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue easily. 

But being this close to Renee reminds him just how hungry he is. She smells  _ amazing. _ After a moment, he forces himself to put her back down and release her from his arms, because he's really not trying to get stabbed again.

But also because all he can think about when she's that close is how good she tasted that night in Skull Town, during Shadowfall. Hers was the first fresh, warm, human blood he'd ever tasted, and the memory was still so strong and fresh in his mind, he worried that being physically close to her might be dangerous. For her. Mainly because when they hug, her arms go around his neck, pulling his chin down to rest on her shoulder, mere inches from that pretty, pale throat... 

_ Ugh, she tasted so good... _

All he'd have to do is grab a fistful of that gorgeous black hair and tilt her head, yank that scarf down with his other hand, and sink his teeth into the soft ivory skin covering her delicate neck. A distant part of Elliott wondered if she would moan like Park had when Elliott first sank his fangs into him, wondered whether a bite to the throat would hurt more or less than a bite on the inside of the thigh.

_ No! Stop it! She's your friend, not your food, dude. _

Shaking the thought from his head, he fires off a few more victory shots, still able to hear Renee's heart pounding with adrenaline from their win.

\---

When he gets out of the shower, there's a text message waiting for him.

_ "Nice win back there. You hungry?" _

_ I thought you'd never ask. _

Elliott types back,  _ "Only if you're feeling up to it,"  _ but what he's actually thinking is,  _ PLEASE. _

\--

Elliott knocks on the door.

"It's open," comes a distant voice from within.

He goes in. Park is leaning over his desk, examining something on one of the monitors. Blueprints, it looks like.

"Hey," Elliott says, gently sliding a hand across Park's shoulder blades, trying not to startle him. "What's up?"

Park pulls Elliott closer and leans back against his chest, and Elliott can't stop himself from pressing a kiss to the synthetic skin on the back of Park's neck

"When was the last time you ate?" Park asks, turning his head to the side to give Elliott's mouth better access to his neck.

"It's, uh, been a while. Little under a week. You sure you're feeling up to this? Like, physically? I don't wanna put your body under more stress while you're healing…" his lips ghost over Park's scarred shoulder.

"Elliott," Park says softly, releasing him and moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "I am  _ always _ feeling up to this."

Elliott blushes, stepping back and looking at the monitors on Park's desk. When he turns back around, Park is already shirtless, currently working on his pants.

_ God damn, I am the luckiest man in this dimension and every other. _

Finally free of his pants, Park looks up and notices Elliott's staring. The hacker blushes a little, averting his gaze for a moment before he looks back at Elliott and asks, "What are you thinking about?"

Elliott walks to the foot of the bed and reaches out to stroke Park's face. He notices a thin metal bar, piercing through the cartilage of Park's right ear in two places. 

_ Has he always had that? _ Elliott wonders distantly.

Stroking the synthetic part of Park's jaw, Elliott smiles down at him and says, "I'm thinking that you're the most gorgeous man in the whole damn Frontier, and possibly the whole universe," he leans forward, nuzzling Park's cheek and growling, "And I'm thinking you're the most delicious thing that's ever been in my mouth."

Park is blushing profusely now, can't even look Elliott in the eye anymore. Elliott kneels between his spread legs, pushing Park’s chest down onto the bed so he's lying flat on his back. Then he leans forward, dragging his mouth down Park's toned stomach as he slides a hand up his thigh, stroking over the spot he's fucking dying to sink his teeth into. Park moans when Elliott's mouth nears the waistband of his boxers, tongue slipping underneath and dragging over the sensitive skin there.

_ God, he is so fucking hot like this. Look at him, Jesus.  _

Elliott's barely touched him but Park is already tenting his black boxer-briefs and trembling under Elliott's tongue, just like he had the very first time he let Elliott feed. Watching his muscles clench, hearing him gasp,  _ fuck, _ this exact moment is what Elliott thinks of when he's alone in his bed, jerking off. Park is just so damn needy, so eager whenever Elliott feeds, the kid is always rock hard and trembling and  _ begging _ for it before Elliott has even broken skin.

Usually it's Elliott doing the begging, at least in the bedroom, so seeing Park just lose control like this is always a delight.

Elliott's teasing him now, just to be mean. He's tugged down Park's boxers so low on his hips they're just barely containing his erection. Dragging his tongue beneath the waist band, Elliott can't help but chuckle a little at the desperate cry that escapes him when Elliott's tongue lightly grazes the base of his dick. Park is trying to move his hips but Elliott's pinning them down, forcing him to hold still and endure the sweet torture.

Pulling back, Elliott hooks his fingers in Park's waistband and yanks his boxers down and off, freeing his cock. Park's dick is fucking  _ drooling _ pre-cum and Elliott can't resist the urge to do the thing that started all this nonsense in the first place -- leaning forward to lick up the clear beads of fluid that are leaking from the head and dripping down the curved underside of Park's cock.

Park squirms and moans at the contact, and Elliott actually feels the man's dick twitch against his tongue a little bit.

"I'd keep you right here, just like this, all goddamn day if I could, kid," Elliott rasps, voice ragged with lust. "You look so good like this, baby, all needy and hard. Maybe next time that little robot friend of yours can film this for me."

Park whimpers out a soft,  _ "Please!" _

"What is it, baby?" Elliott murmurs, licking his lips and spreading Park's legs further apart. "What do you need?"

Park's cock is twitching against his stomach all on its own, still leaking profusely. He's making desperate little noises, though he's clearly trying to stay quiet.

But Elliott's having none of that. He roughly shoves Park's thighs further apart, leaning forward and licking over the spot he can't wait to sink his fangs into. But instead of just teasing it with his tongue, he decides to give Park a taste of his own medicine. He sucks the tender flesh of Park's inner thigh between his lips, hard, and drags his teeth over it, relishing the way Park's back arches up off the bed when he does. Pulling back, Elliott presses a gentle kiss to the little bruise he just sucked into the sensitive skin there.

"E-E-Elliott! Please, god,  _ mmmph--please!" _ Park is trembling, gripping the sheets so hard that the knuckles on his flesh fingers have all gone white.

"Please what, sugar lips? Can't give you what you need if you don't tell me." Elliott might be enjoying this a little bit.

He's expecting Park to say something like,  _ "Make me cum, please!" _ since that tends to be how these feeding sessions usually go. So Elliott's a little surprised to hear Park's gasping, ragged voice groan, "The teeth, please, I  _ need _ it, Elliott…" and then, "d-don't be gentle.  _ Please." _ and  _ fuck _ , that just...does something to Elliott that he can't explain.

_ Jesus fuck, why is that so hot? Shit, he really wants this after what just happened to his neck? _

Elliott's about to ask him if he's sure when Park rather suddenly fists a handful of Elliott's hair and gently tugs so the trickster will look at him. When Elliott looks up, the expression on Park's face is so god damn desperate, Elliott could never deny him, even if he wanted to. Which he does not.

_ "Jebal _ Elliott, I need this. I need it to  _ hurt." _

_ Fucking hell. You might actually be as fucked up as I am, baby. _

Elliott forcefully yanks Park's hips closer to him, slinging Park's leg over one shoulder and leaning forward to taste that beautiful skin. 

"Fuck, you smell  _ so good, _ baby…" And he does. Park always smells fucking delicious, because he  _ is  _ fucking delicious. But for whatever reason, today it's a  _ slightly _ different kind of delicious.

Park is shaking, whimpering, still pleading with Elliott to  _ "make it hurt." _

_ Jesus. We've gotta talk safe words here soon. Like, now. _

But Elliott can hear Park's heartbeat throbbing in his head, and it distracts him from his thoughts. He feels the vein pulsing gently beneath the pressure of his tongue. Park is desperately trying to grind his thigh against Elliott's mouth, and Elliott can't take it anymore, he's starving, it's been  _ days,  _ and Park has made such an irresistible meal out of himself, with his thighs spread wide and pinned beneath Elliott's sucking mouth as he tries to grind against it, that Elliott just can't resist giving him what he wants.

The sound that comes out of Park when Elliott roughly pierces both fangs into his thigh is utterly debauched, so filthy and wanton it's almost pornographic -- to the point that Elliott would have thought Park was getting sucked off, if he didn't know better.

_ "Ssibal! Jebal, _ Elliott, yes-- _ mmmph!" _

Elliott can't respond, in part because his mouth is full, but mostly because the moment Park's sweet blood touches Elliott's tongue, he understands why he smells different. He tastes different, too -- even  _ better, _ which Elliott didn't think was possible.

He tastes like himself, of course, hot and thick and fucking delicious.

But he also tastes like  _ Renee. _

It's just a hint of her sweetness, but Elliott can taste enough of it that his dick has been hard and leaking since the moment it touched his tongue.

Park's fingers are tangled in Elliott's hair, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Elliott can't stop moaning against Park's thigh,  _ fuck, _ it's  _ so good, _ so sticky and sweet, smooth and warm on his tongue. The taste of both of them together makes Elliott's cock twitch involuntarily as he pulls back for a moment moaning, "Fuck, you're so delicious,  _ ahhn--" _ and squeezing himself through his holosuit, hips thrusting forward against his own palm.

Finally collecting himself a little bit, Park notices the expression of pure bliss on Elliott's face, notices how desperately he's rubbing his bulge and moaning into Park's thigh. More desperately than usual, which is saying something.

"What's got you so worked up tonight, old man?" 

Elliott's been trying not to say it, he really has, but Park asked and his brain is clouded by the sweet blood flowing into his mouth.

Pulling back momentarily, mouth, chin, and beard stained completely red, Elliott gives Park a guilty sort of look and says, "It's your blood. Not...not  _ all _ of it is yours right n-now, so y-you taste a little bit like...like, um, like--"

"Like Renee," Crypto finishes for him, a mischievous smirk on his face.

_ "Mhmmm," _ Elliott moans into his thigh, mouth already back to sucking at the wounds, still squeezing himself and feeling guilty, but not guilty enough to stop.

"You want to taste more than just her blood, don't you, Elliott?"

Elliott throbs in his pants and lets out a guilty little whimper, affirming Park's suspicions.

"Fuck," Park groans, "That mind of yours is so filthy. You just can't help yourself, can you?" Park is jerking himself off now, Elliott realizes, shuddering at the sight. Park's other hand is still tangled in Elliott's hair, keeping the trickster's sucking mouth pressed against his bleeding thigh as the man continues spewing absolute  _ filth _ from those pretty plush lips.

"You're such a dirty boy, Elliott. Maybe Renee and I need to have a chat about what to do with such a naughty thing. I'm certain we could come up with a few new ways to occupy that deviant mind of yours...and that filthy mouth."

Elliott shudders, pulling back from Park's thigh and gasping for oxygen, still tasting both Park and Renee on his tongue. 

_ I’m going to cum in this holo-suit if you keep talking like that. _

He leans forward, licks up the seam of Park's balls, making the man's dark brown eyes fly open as he cries out.

_ "Ah!" _

Then Elliott's pulling Park's hand away so he can replace it with his own, loving the needy way Park starts thrusting up into it.

"Or maybe," Elliott growls, stroking Park faster, occasionally bending to lick more blood from his inner thigh, "Renee and I can have a friendly little competition to see whose mouth makes you cum the fastest. 'Cause I'm starting to think I'm not the only one that would be into this, kid. Sharing is caring, after all."

Park is shamelessly rutting up into Elliott's hand now, moaning lewdly at the mental image painted by his words. "Ffffuck, Elliott, oh god, yes...p-please,  _ please _ don't stop…"

Elliott's not sure what exactly has come over him when he says, "I bet you think about it all the time, Park. What her pretty pink lips would feel like wrapped around you," and then buries Park's cock in his throat, swallowing and moaning around it.

"Elliott,  _ fuck!" _

Park cums almost immediately, spilling down his throat and moaning like a whore even by Elliott's standards. He's blushing profusely, shaking under Elliott's mouth.

_ This is the hottest thing I've ever seen, holy shit. _

Elliott doesn't miss a single drop, and Park shudders when he hears the audible  _ gulp _ of Elliott swallowing his seed.

The famous legend pulls his lips off, climbing onto the bed and collapsing next to Park, who is still lying flat on his back, trying to catch his breath. 

Park rubs at his face, laughing, "If you breathe a word of this to Wraith, I will kill you."

Now Elliott's laughing, "If I breathe a word of this to Wraith, she'll kill us both." He bursts into a fit of giggles. 

After a few deep breaths, he flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "So, is that the surprise? That you're as big of a thirsty slut as I am?"

"No," Crypto rolls onto his belly, looking at Elliott with a mischievous smirk.  _ "This _ is the surprise." Then he leans forward and kisses him.

Eager as ever and still throbbing in his pants from what he just witnessed, Elliott moans into Park's kiss, and when he licks hotly into Elliott's mouth, there's something small and smooth and round on the middle of his tongue. 

No,  _ in _ the middle of it.

Elliott pulls back with a gasp. "Is that--is that a fucking  _ tongue ring?!" _

Park smirks, sticking out his tongue at Elliott, and  _ yep, that's a fuckin' tongue ring. _ In the middle of Park's tongue is a little steel ball, connected to another steel ball via a thin steel bar that is pierced through the middle of Park's tongue.

"Is it new?" Elliott asks, wondering how he could have missed something like that.

"No. I just don't wear it in the ring. Too easy for piercings to get ripped out or in this case, bitten. I've had it for a while." He sticks just the little steel ball out between his lips, then it disappears back into his mouth.

"That is so fucking hot," Elliott breathes, mesmerized. He’s been hard since before he fed, but just looking at that piercing makes his dick twitch a little, straining against the fabric of his holosuit.

Park is still smirking at Elliott, looking like he's up to something. Then he crawls between his legs, gripping the trickster's throbbing length and squeezing him through his suit. Park tugs it open just enough to free Elliott's leaking cock, giving it a few gentle strokes that make Elliott whine.

Then Park is leaning down and dragging that pierced tongue up Elliott's dick from base to tip, and Elliott is shaking with the effort it takes to resist seizing a handful of Park's unfairly-silky hair and fucking his soft, warm mouth.

Park teases the head of Elliott's throbbing dick with his tongue ring, running the smooth metal ball along the frenulum, then swallowing him down and dragging it against the base of his cock. 

"Oh my fuckin'  _ god, _ baby, holy  _ shit _ \--this is a really g-good surprise-- _ ahh!" _ The trickster is sliding his fingers through the hacker's hair, shuddering with every stroke of his devious tongue.

Park pulls off, making Elliott whine and give him a look of utter desperation.

"That was not the surprise," Park says again, looking at him with pure wickedness in his eyes.  _ "This _ is the surprise."

He takes Elliott deep, hilting Witt's cock in the back of his throat and making the legend cry out as he does. He presses his tongue firmly up against the underside of Elliott's throbbing cock, and then his tongue ring starts to  _ vibrate. _

_ "Ahhhnnnoo _ ohmyfuckinggod,  _ fuck, _ P-Park, I-- _ ah! _ \--ohgodohfuck,  _ please…" _

Elliott's eyes are rolling back, his back arching as he thrusts up into Park's wicked mouth, feeling the cool metal ball on Park's tongue as it's dragged up the underside of his dick, vibrating deliciously, every lick making him jerk and shudder.

"Holy  _ fuck, _ baby. That thing is intense-- _ ah!" _

Crypto takes him deep, swallowing around Elliott's thickness, and slipping that wicked tongue out to stroke over his balls.

"I'm s-s-so c-close, baby  _ please!" _

Park moans around him, the vibrations both from his voice and his tongue ring combining to create a sensation so overwhelming it has Elliott spurting onto his tongue almost instantly.

"Oh god, oh  _ fuck, _ oh fuck fuck fuck-- _ agh!" _

The gorgeous hacker moans again when he swallows Elliott's cum, watching as the trickster trembles with overstimulation from the vibrations of his tongue. Elliott gasps when Park's devious mouth finally releases him.

"Holy. Fuckin'. Shit. That was the best surprise  _ ever." _

\--

"Is that a fucking tattoo?!" 

"Yes."

"I seriously think you're just going out and getting more body modifications to see if I notice the next time we bang. Like, that tattoo was definitely not there before." Elliott's pretty sure. Kinda.

Park laughs, rolling his eyes. "It's been there a long time." He's leaning back over his desk studying a monitor again, shirtless, with his back to Elliott. 

Elliott squints, trying to make out what it is. It's in the middle of his shoulder blades, right below the spot where the synthetic flesh ends. It's a...bar code? There's some text under it but Elliott can't read it, because it's written in Korean characters.

"What's it say?" Elliott is suddenly quite curious.

Park turns around, smirking. "Made in Korea."

Elliott rolls his eyes. "Seriously, what does it say?"

Park snorts. "That's what it says! It's a joke, my synthetic skin was manufactured in Korea. Lost a bet with Min, loser got a tattoo of the winner's choosing."

"Holy shit, Park. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Elliott grins, "Min sounds like a good friend, too -- you're lucky she didn't just hand the tattoo guy a doodle of a dick or something."

"She is a good friend," Park says. "And so are you."

The way Park is looking at him makes Elliott's heart do a little flip.

\-------------

Finally, the legends are getting a few days off from the games for Thanksgiving, and Renee is actually feeling uncharacteristically optimistic about the upcoming holiday. Things are back to normal between her and Elliott, that duos win definitely helped make things less awkward, and now she gets to spend the holiday somewhere that is actually familiar.

**3:16PM Elliott:** Meet me in the shuttle bay, Blasey. Let’s blow this popsicle stand!

Elliott’s message makes her smile. She hoists her duffel bag onto her shoulder and scans her bedroom one last time, making sure she isn't forgetting anything.

\--

When she gets there, she spies Elliott loading luggage into a shuttle.

_ Oh my god, is he bringing his whole closet? _

“Think you got enough luggage there, Witt?”

Elliott beams at her. “It’s not all mine, believe it or not!”

Pathfinder pokes his head out of the shuttle. “Are we ready, friends?”

“You coming too, Path?” Renee asks. That’s a little unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

Pathfinder nods, the screen in the middle of his chest changing to display an emoji that’s smiling with all of its teeth.

“My mom thinks he’s fascinating,” Elliott rolled his eyes. 

Elliott takes her duffel bag, tossing it into the shuttle’s cargo hold.

Climbing into the back of the shuttle, Renee is met with another familiar face.

Park.

_ Oh for fuck’s sake. _

She takes a seat across from him. When he looks up from his phone, she silently mouths,  _ ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ _

Park smirks, ignoring her and glancing down at his phone again.

“Alright, everybody ready? We got everything?” Elliott’s finally taking a seat himself, buckling his seatbelt. 

“I think so, friend!”

Elliott grins, “Alright, Path. Take us away!”

Renee’s not sure why she’s surprised Pathfinder can fly a shuttle, but for some reason, she is. With a chipper  _ “Woo-hoo!” _ Pathfinder guides the shuttle out of the bay and into the endless expanse of the Outlands.

Her phone buzzes. It’s Park.

**3:36PM Asshole:** Just following orders. You said not to make him cry. Should I have said no?

She rolls her eyes, glaring out the window of the shuttlecraft.

_ Bzzzzp. _

**3:37PM Asshole:** I believe you said we must share, did you not?

When she glares up at him, Park  _ winks. _

Renee fumes. Mainly because Park has a good point. She  _ did _ say that.

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaaaaaa, remember when y'all were like, "Yo, put Wraith in this story," and I was like, "LOL no."
> 
> Spoiler Alert: I may have lied.
> 
> _*maniacal laughter*_ I'ma need to update these tags soon, methinks. I promise this is ultimately still a Crypto/Mirage fic though, don't worry! But listen, it's not my fault that everyone in this story is a big bi slut, okay? The author is also a big bi slut. I am only human and so are our boyz and Renee is freakin' HOT okay? Okay.
> 
> Also: if, after finishing this chapter, you have found yourself with several burning, unanswered questions -- good! Answers are coming, I promise. Those gaping holes in some of the shocking info that was revealed in this chapter WILL be filled in, and certain details have been purposefully left out for the time being. That said, I have a LOT of plates spinning in the air here, narratively-speaking, and I am quite prone to making mistakes. If you notice some confusing bullshit, continuity errors or whatever, please point it out and I will do my best to fix it and/or half-assedly explain it in the comments. I know there's some confusing time-hopping shit in this chapter, like Wraith remembering her very first visit to the cave right before she visits it again, that kind of thing. I love little mysteries that are suddenly solved once you get another character's perspective, which was why I had her visit the cave forever ago, but y'all are only finding out what happened in it now. SUSPENSE AND SHIT IDK OKAY. I hope it's not too confusing.
> 
> Anyway, my dear readers -- how was the porn? Was the porn good? Sometimes I forget that the porn is the point of this story, lmao. Idk, man, I'm just tryna make y'all jizz and/or cry. Preferably both, that's kind of my thing. Hope each of you had a fabulous holiday, I will see you again shortly for Chapter 9!
> 
> Next stop: Solace, Pornsgiving, and so much tragic backstory you'll die inside. Like, is it possible to overdose on hurt/comfort? I swear to god all these idiots do is fuck each other and cry about it.


	9. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s another loud thump on the wall, immediately followed by a muffled _“Fuck, baby!”_ and it’s _definitely_ Elliott.
> 
> _Oh for FUCK’S SAKE. Are you serious?_
> 
> Renee hears Park’s deep voice murmur something, but it’s soft, and she can’t make out what it is, _thank god._
> 
> There’s another absurdly loud racket immediately to her left.
> 
> _Are they fucking against the wall? Jesus Christ._
> 
> She briefly considers banging her fist against it and telling them to get a fucking room, but...technically they _have _gotten a room. The problem is it’s the room right next to hers.
> 
> \----------
> 
> Park celebrates his first holiday with something he never thought he'd have. Elliott tries to keep his mouth shut. Renee finds an unexpected ally, and escapes a very awkward post-Thanksgiving encounter. The creature in the cave has a friend for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I HAVE MADE A TUMBLR FOR Y'ALL.](https://holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com/) Come leave filth in my ask box! :D
> 
> CHOO CHOO MOTHERFUCKER, THE MIRAGE EXPRESS IS IN TOWN. Okay sorry, the new mode is so insane. This whole Mirage event is insane. Merry Fuckin' Christmas. Also this chapter has made _me_ insane.
> 
> Yes hello, remember me? Here's that extremely-late Thanksgiving update. It is _ridiculously_ long, and thus likely full of spelling errors and typos and continuity fuck-ups I will have to fix later, but I have been DYING to post this thing for SO LONG but it took FOREVER, OKAY. These chapters honestly take as long to edit as they take to write in the first place, and by the end I am OVERFLOWING with excitement so just bear with me if this one's a little messy. Shit is going down!
> 
> There is so much going on in this chapter, I don't know where the fuck to begin. It's pushing 30k words so snag some hot chocolate and toss a barrel of Nox gas in front of your bedroom doors, ladies & germs. This one's a friggin' doozy. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm gonna go be terrible at this new mode. Strap the fuck in, bitches. 
> 
> PS: Some spoilers in this if you haven't finished getting all the Battle Pass loadscreens.

Renee glares at Park for the duration of the flight, but if he notices, he doesn’t show it. She feels a little stupid -- of  _ course _ Elliott was bringing his new squeeze -- she’s not sure what she had expected. She was just grateful Pathfinder was there. She’d rather spend the weekend in the Voidless place than spend it as a third wheel to Romeo and Romeo.

The shuttle’s on autopilot. Renee is sitting on the floor, back against the wall, watching one of Elliott’s decoys shuffle a deck of cards it manifested, before beginning to deal the cards among the three of them. The decoys are pretty hard to tell apart, but she’s positive this isn’t the one that grabbed her ass in Elliott’s bar all those months ago.

It felt like that had happened lifetimes ago. Elliott hadn’t even been mad -- Elliott  _ never  _ got mad though, not really -- but it still made her chest ache with guilt whenever she thought about it. That pretty face was her favorite part of Elliott, and she hated herself for putting a scar on it.

_ Maybe coming along for this trip wasn’t the best idea. _

Renee wasn’t exactly...domesticated.

Park is folded up on the wide bench seat that lines the back of the cabin, huddling into that giant white coat with his knees pulled to his chest. All she can see of him from where she’s sitting is a big jacket with hair sticking out of the top, projecting a green AR overlay a few inches in front of the zipper. Jee hovers silently above them, gliding slowly around the shuttle’s interior in an absentminded sort of way that makes her wonder if it’s on autopilot, too. Elliott is curled up next to Park on the couch, snoring a little bit. Renee glances across the cabin, eyeing the decoy.

_ Guess the decoys have an autopilot, too. _

The decoy looks up as it slides a card her way, and when it sees her staring, it immediately averts its eyes, going slightly red in the face. It looks a little flustered.

_ Yeah, this one definitely isn’t the butt-grabber.  _

Something about that one had been different. Weird. Kind of scary, honestly, which was what made her choose to slice first and ask questions later. All of Elliott’s decoys were physically identical, but they each had distinct personalities, and with a little observation, she’d gotten pretty good at determining which one was which. It was like telling a pair of identical twins apart -- even though they dressed and looked the same, their demeanors allowed her to make the distinction between the holograms and Elliott, and differ between the holograms themselves.

Despite all the time she’d spent around his decoys, though, they still managed to bamboozle her in the ring every now and then. 

The one in front of her now is one she recognizes from the arena, actually. It’s the one that always gets this wide-eyed, shocked sort of look on its face and squeezes its eyes shut right before you shoot it. She  _ knows _ it’s a hologram, knows it’s not really Elliott, but it makes her feel awful. In fact, she’s almost positive it’s programmed to do that -- to make you feel a little guilty, make you hesitate for a split second. A split second is all it takes for the real Elliott to materialize out of thin air and wreck your shit. 

It’s an  _ incredibly _ effective tactic in the ring. It’s hard enough to point a gun at that handsome face as it is. When Elliott’s smug, cocky, shit-eating grin has been replaced with that scared, hurt,  _ betrayed _ sort of look, it’s almost impossible to pull the trigger. She’d even seen Caustic fall for it once, when he turned a corner to find the decoy curled up behind a rock, crying. Instead of shooting it, the normally cruel chemist had lowered his gun, dropped to one knee in front of it and asked,  _ “Witt? Are you...alright?”  _

Then the real Elliott had appeared and promptly peacekeeper’d him in the face, and the sad little decoy had disappeared.

Nox wasn’t such a bad guy. It definitely  _ was _ Nox, though -- she’d rolled her eyes at the rumors initially, but after she’d seen Alexander Nox’s death certificate when it was printed in The Outlands Journal -- which stated that Nox’s body was charred beyond recognition, but was identified via DNA when two of his severed fingers,  _ still intact, _ were found near the burnt corpse -- she’d started wondering if perhaps Nox’s death had been faked. 

Then, the night she’d barely managed to get Park back to the ship alive, she’d warped to Caustic’s room, frantically banging on the door. It was a stretch, but she didn’t know what else to do -- Park was bleeding all over the goddamn ship and she had to do  _ something. _ She figured Caustic was the only other person on the ship likely to have any medical knowledge besides Lifeline. He  _ was _ a doctor, technically. Just not the kind of doctor that saved lives, generally speaking.

When they’d both rushed into Ajay’s ER moments later, the man had ripped off the yellow rubber gloves he wore in the ring and run to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean. Just before he’d slipped them into the clean pair of latex gloves Natalie handed him, he’d paused to dry them off, which was when Renee noticed something strange.

The index and middle fingers of Caustic’s left hand were  _ artificial, _ covered in the same blackish synthetics as Park’s neck. Which was lucky as hell -- for Park.

But there was no question in her mind now -- this was Alexander Nox, and he evidently knew more about the human body than just how to cause damage to it. He had also apparently faked his death, and now he  _ lived across the hall _ from her. Renee would have normally been rather upset by something like this, but that same Alexander Nox currently had those two artificial digits knuckle-deep in the side of Park’s artificial neck, and was using them to save the stupid asshole’s stupid life. 

So Renee wasn’t going to say a god damned thing about it to Nox or anyone else, because he was saving her ass...and she was about to have to ask him for another favor.

The next night -- once she knew Park was going to make it, and she’d slept off the previous night’s exhausting events -- she appeared outside Caustic’s door for the second time, and knocked (because Park was right,  _ dammit, _ that was something she needed to start doing).

The door swung open.

“Renee,” Nox had said with a smile that made her skin crawl. “What a lovely surprise. Please, come in.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she grumbled, crossing the threshold.

She’d have never guessed it was a bedroom if she didn’t already know Nox slept in it, somewhere. The room was wall-to-wall lab equipment, the kind of space one doesn’t want to enter without first sealing themselves safely inside a hazmat suit.

There was a folding chair in one corner, but Renee didn’t want to stay long. Nox took a seat at his desk, swiveling the chair around and steepling his fingers as he gazed up at her. Seeing him out of the mask that normally covered the lower half of his face made her uncomfortable. Being in the room made her uncomfortable. The way he looked at her made her uncomfortable.

“What?” she hissed, when he continued staring.

He huffed out a laugh. 

“You tell me, Ms. Blasey. Did you need something? Got another life you need me to save? Or did you just come by for a visit? I must say, I’m flattered. You really are full of all kinds of lovely little surprises lately, Renee. A scientist for the IMC, who’d have guessed? Pity your memories were erased, I could use another competent lab assistant...”

“Shut the fuck up. And don’t call me Renee.”

There was a strained moment of silence.

Nox’s tone was different when he finally broke it, murmuring, “Those aren’t prowler bites, Blasey. I’m not an imbecile.”

_ Had me fooled, dickbag. _

“No, they’re not prowler bites,” she said, staring him down. “And those fingers of yours aren’t real are they, Nox?”

For a moment, he looked shocked, but he recovered quickly. Whatever he was thinking, he kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to speak first.

“Look, it’s not my business what you got up to in your...previous life. God knows my track record has some spots. I’m not here to hold a magnifying glass up to yours...unless I have to.” She was choosing her words very carefully.

Nox looked sort of pissed, but also a little bit amused, which was infuriating.

“Are you threatening me, Ms. Blasey?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Like I said, everybody’s got a past. If the Syndicate gave a fuck, half of us wouldn’t be here. They don’t care, and I sure as shit don’t,” she paused, looking at him.

Nox looked slightly relieved she wasn’t planning to turn him in, but he was clearly still on edge, wary. 

_ Good. _

“But you know who might care?” she continued, wishing she could borrow some of Elliott’s seemingly-endless bravado and confidence. “You know who  _ might _ want to know what a lying, colleague-murdering, death-faking sack of shit you are, Nox? Natalie.”

Nox had been hanging around Wattson a  _ lot _ as of late. Everyone had noticed, but nobody was saying a goddamn word about it, for fear that Nox would ensure that their next execution in the arena be neither swift nor painless. Renee wasn’t entirely sure it would be an effective threat -- he was a  _ murderer, _ for fuck’s sake. But if Nox gave a shit about anyone’s opinion, it was Natalie’s. 

Nox’s calm, collected demeanor evaporated the moment he heard Nat’s name leave her mouth. He looked nervous, shifty. He looked _ furious. _

“What the  _ fuck _ do you want from me?” he growled. All pretense of polite conversation had dissipated into the air like his noxious fumes. There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice anymore.

_ Well, that worked. _

“I need a favor,” Renee mutters, folding her arms and staring at the floor. “Well, two favors.”

Nox narrows his eyes.

“I just did you a favor, Blasey.”

“No, you did  _ Park _ a favor. You saying you only saved him ‘cause I asked you to? That’s sweet, but I’m not buying it. I need something else.” She tried to keep her voice steady. Threatening people was easier when she had her knife against their throat. 

It helped if they were unarmed and half-dressed, too. And not three times her size.

“What kind of favor, exactly?”

“I need you to get ahold of some medical supplies for me. And I need your help...administering something,” she says, lowering her voice in case Park’s outside eavesdropping. “I can’t do it on my own.”

_ Because I’m a pussy and I can’t do it myself. _

Nox hadn’t said anything yet, he was just watching her with those freaky eyes.

“I, uh, could use someone with your...expertise,” she murmured awkwardly.  _ ‘Your expertise’ _ sounded a little more polite than  _ ‘your mad scientist bullshit,’ _ which was what she was really after. “I need someone who knows what they’re doing when it comes to the human body.”

“Your wish is my command,” Nox had replied, looking amused again.

_ God, ew. _

-

Two days later she was back in his room, sitting on the metal folding chair and trembling a little bit.

“I acquired the equipment with ease,” Nox said, handing her a small black case that was about the length of her palm and half as wide, which she slipped into her backpack. “But I do not understand why you need me to administer--”

“I can’t exactly ask Ajay for help with this, can I?” she hissed at him, glaring.

“You do not need to  _ ask _ anyone, it’s a very simple proced--”

“I don’t fuck with needles, okay?!” she groaned, cutting him off again.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing.”

_ “What?” _

“I’m surprised. Never would have guessed,” Nox said, smirking as he removed his rubber gloves and replaced them with blue latex. “What with the syringes I see you jam into your arm in the ring on a regular basis, the enormous one that was used for Park’s transfusion, the needle that was presumably used to pierce that little stud through your nostril…”

“That’s different,” she said quietly, feeling stupid. “The syringes for the Games don’t even hurt. And the transfusion -- what was I supposed to do, let him  _ die _ because I was scared of a fucking needle?”

“You could have,” Nox mused. “It was a big needle.”

Renee shuddered. It  _ was _ a big needle.

“Don’t remind me.” She looked down at her lap.

“This one isn’t as bad,” he said, pulling apart some sterile packaging.

Renee didn’t want to look, so she took his word for it.

It was weird, hearing him reassure her. Shit, it was weird just being in his presence, doubly so when he wasn’t putting on the whole toxic freakshow act she’d gotten used to. Seeing Nox act like an actual person was kind of terrifying.

Renee continued rambling, trying to distract herself from her nerves.

“The nose ring, uh, was there when I woke up. In the lab. I didn’t--I don’t remember getting it done.” 

_ Or the ears. Or the navel. Or the-- _

“I see,” Nox was in front of her now, reaching for her. Against her every instinct, she rolled up her sleeve and let him grasp her elbow, swabbing over the crook of her arm with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. “Surely one of your little friends could help you, could they not? I can’t imagine I was your first choice for this.”

“I already told you, I can’t--it’s not...something I can talk to them about. It’s not something I’m gonna talk to  _ you _ about either, Nox. So stop asking.”

Nox snorts. “If you didn’t want people asking questions, you could have had this done professionally. Do I even want to know why you’ve got a bag of--”

_ “No,” _ she snapped, quite a bit louder than she meant to. “You don’t. And if you’re gonna keep asking, I--oh,  _ god _ \--” she winced. She’d looked at the needle. It was big.  _ Fuck. _

“It won’t be as bad as the one in the OR,” Caustic said, meeting her eyes with his own noxious gaze. “I promise.”

_ Uh-huh. Sure it won’t. _

“Trust me,” she sighed, “If I could afford to have this done by literally anyone else but you, I already would have. I’m not made of money.”  _ Kinda spent it all paying you back for fixing Park’s synthetics, you dick. _

Nox chuckled, reaching for her arm again and positioning it on the small table beside the folding chair. 

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m gonna get.”

Nox leaned forward for a moment but suddenly stopped, sighing with exasperation. 

“Blasey. You must hold still.”

She was shaking.

“Sorry.”

He moved away from her for a moment, releasing her arm and plucking something round and purple off his desk, then placing it in her other hand. She looked down.

It was sort of squishy...ball...thing.

“Uh, what’s this for?”

“For you to squeeze,” Nox replies simply, grabbing her other wrist and placing her arm on the table again. “So you stop shaking.”

“Oh.”

“Take a deep breath. And  _ hold still _ for god’s sake.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t look.”

Renee squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed the squishy ball, holding her breath and trying very hard to hold still, too.

-

“All done,” Nox said, leaning over her. She hissed when he removed the needle from her arm, pressing a little piece of gauze into it with his thumb and holding it there for a moment. He’d been right, though. It hadn’t been as bad as the needle in the OR. Probably because she hadn’t been donating a gallon of her blood this time, though.

“If all goes well, we will know in about a week. There shouldn’t be any unexpected side effects, but you may feel free to contact me should any concerns arise.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’d love to hear all about any suffering this causes me,” she bit out, before realizing she sounded like an absolute asshole and maybe shouldn’t antagonize an evil genius who successfully faked his own death. Especially because he’d just done her an absolutely  _ enormous _ favor. Several of them, actually.

He snorts. “Yes, do keep me posted. Quite a curious little experiment you’re running here. I’m sure the results will be fascinating.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rolling her sleeve back down and heading for the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

_ What?  _

She turned around and felt like an idiot when she saw what he was holding. Her backpack.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” she awkwardly approached him again, taking her bag back from him. “And thanks for the uh...everything.”

She doesn’t stick around to hear what he says back, snapping out of the room and into the Void the instant the words have left her mouth.

\--

It’s been over a week, so things should be as ready as they’re going to get. Renee’s a little scared to test out her hypothesis without being absolutely positive, though. Problem is, she’s not sure how to tell if things are...working properly.

_ Nox would know. _

The last thing Renee wants to do over the holiday weekend is send a text message to Alexander goddamned Nox. Then again, the last person she wants to spend the holiday weekend with is Park, and yet here she is, stuck in a Solace-bound shuttle with him.

Elliott murmurs something in his sleep, shifting on the couch next to Park. Out of the corner of her eye, Renee sees Park look to make sure no one’s watching before he reaches down and strokes his weird, creepy fingers through Elliott’s pretty hair. Elliott sighs.

_ Okay, that’s kind of cute. _ Watching anybody affectionately pet Elliott’s hair would be cute though, she’s pretty sure. Elliott’s cute. Elliott’s decoy is cute, too.

_ God, what is wrong with you today, Renee? _

To distract herself from the annoying level of cuteness in her immediate vicinity, she turns to Pathfinder, who feels like the only person--thing-- _ being _ in her life with any sense lately, herself included.

“So where did you learn to cook, Path? I’ve seen some MRVNs use like, a replicator before, but that’s about it. Was that programmed into you, or…?”

“I don’t know, friend. I suppose my creator must have been interested in the culinary arts.”

“Huh. That’s kinda neat. Sucks your memory got erased -- corrupted -- uh, whatever you called it. At least you got to keep the part of your brain that knows how to do stuff. This whole phasing-between-dimensions thing is pretty neat, but apparently I used to be, like...really smart. But when my memory got wiped, anything useful I knew how to do went with it. Y’know, things like cooking, flying a shuttle, long division…” she sighs, gazing out the window for a moment before turning back to her robotic friend. 

“Do you ever just...know stuff? Like, know something is true, or know something happened, but don’t know  _ how _ you know?” 

_ Wow. Eloquent. _

Pathfinder shakes his head, the emojii on his chest replacing itself with a blue question mark.

“I’m not sure our brains work the same way, friend.”

_ Yeah. Robots probably don’t have PTSD flashbacks and interdimensional nightmares, dipshit. _

She feels dumb, and she can feel Park’s eyes on her now, undoubtedly giving her a look that will piss her off if she turns around to see it.

_ Is it Monday yet? _

\---------

"Elliott!" 

When the front door swings open, a petite woman with Elliott's pretty brown eyes and curly chestnut hair yanks the trickster into a hug so tight Park briefly fears she might break a few of his ribs.

"Please, come in!" 

Once she's finally released Elliott from the hug, she steps aside and motions for all of them to cross the threshold.

"You must be Pathfinder," Elliott's mother beams up at the robot. "I'm a big fan."

The emoji on Pathfinder's chest display is blushing when he says, "It's nice to meet you too, friend!"

The pretty woman's gaze drifts to Renee, who is unsuccessfully attempting to hide behind Pathfinder’s large frame. 

"Wraith, right? I've heard so much about you!"

Renee is a bit red in the face when she steps forward and extends her hand. "Nice to meet you, uh, M-Mrs. Witt. I'm Renee." 

Park's mouth actually pops open a little when he hears her use that name. When he looks up, they briefly lock eyes, and Renee gives him a look of such immature, childish dislike that Park half expects her to stick her tongue out at him when Elliott's mother looks away.

"Please," the woman says, with the same stunning smile Elliott has. "Call me Evenlyn."

Park feels exposed. The second they hit Solace’s atmosphere, it was so hot and humid, his coat had to come off, so he can’t hide behind it like he usually does. He almost thinks he's successfully avoided detection, though, but then those brown eyes zero in on his face, and he knows there's no escape.

"And you," Evenlyn says with a mischievous smile, "Must be the new guy."

"Uh, y-yeah, this is, uh," Elliott stammers, suddenly sounding a little nervous. It’s probably weird introducing someone who won't tell you their first name.

“Hyeon,” Park finishes for him.

Renee and Elliott both turn to look at him, eyes wide. Renee’s jaw actually drops.

_ “Mannaseo bangapseumnida,” _ Park says, taking Evenlyn’s outstretched hand and trying to ignore the way his friends are gaping at him. “It is very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Hyeon,” Evenlyn says with that charming Witt smile.

Park notices Evenlyn quickly glance at Elliott, beaming with a similar expression to the look Min had given him at the bar when she met Elliott for the first time. When he releases his grip on her hand, she doesn’t let go of his. Instead, Elliott’s mother yanks Park’s hand closer, turning it over in her own, eyeing the synthetic skin and fingertip sensors with curious fascination.

“This is  _ wild!” _ Evenlyn exclaims, grinning up at Park. “Did it hurt? You’ll have to tell me all about it! Does--”

_ “MOM,” _ Elliott groans loudly, “There’ll be plenty of time to interrogate our guests later.”

Evenlyn laughs, finally releasing Park’s hand. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t get to see hardware like this every day! Oooh, who’s this?” 

Park is a little confused, because he’s pretty sure everyone there has been introduced. Then he realizes Evenlyn is looking at Jee, who is tucked into its holster on Park’s backpack.

“Mom, come on, will you--”

“This,” Park says, reaching down to grab his drone and gently toss it into the air, “Is Jee. My drone.”

Evenlyn’s face lights up immediately once the bot is airborne. It glides over to her and begins orbiting her head, beeping contentedly.

“Where did you get it?” Evenlyn asks, gleefully following the drone with her eyes.

“I made it. Most of the outer case is 3D-printed. Inside is robot guts.” 

Park surprises himself. He’s not normally so...performative. Talkative. Maybe Elliott’s rubbing off on him. Or maybe Evenlyn’s friendly cheerfulness is contagious.

“You  _ made _ this? Unbelievable!” Evelyn’s eyes follow Jee around the room. “Which navigation system is it running? Does it scan the environment pre-emptively or process it in real time? What kind of filament did you print it with? Oh, and how do you prevent--”

“Oh my  _ god, _ Mom. Please,” Elliott groans. “Can I show them to their rooms first, before you start demanding to see blueprints?”

Elliott’s mom giggles, looking a little embarrassed. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you kids settle in. Guest rooms are upstairs, feel free to use the bathrooms, whatever you need. You guys are probably pretty tired from the trip, get some rest and I’ll come pester you all in the morning.” 

She gives Park a conspiratory little wink.

After hugging Elliott approximately ten more times, she points them in the direction of the stairs, and they all drag their luggage up to the second floor.

\----

Once Wraith is in the shower and Pathfinder is settled in one of the guest rooms, plugged into his charging dock, Elliott leads Park to the door at the end of the hall.

“So, this is my room,” Elliott nods towards it. “My mom is cool, she doesn’t give a fuck who sleeps where, but I figured you’d want to avoid the whole, ‘don’t ever hurt my baby’ spiel, which you will  _ definitely _ get from her at some point this weekend if she thinks we’re sleeping in the same room. So I put your stuff in here,” he opens the door closest to his own bedroom.

Once inside, Elliott looks at him with this apprehensive, timid expression, like he’s unsure about something. 

“You don’t have to sleep in here, though, if you don’t want to,” the trickster says softly. “There’s plenty of room in my bed. I just assumed you’d prefer to avoid the whole mama bear talk. She’s kind of protective, after the stuff with my brothers…”

_ Brothers?  _

Before seeing the house, Park had always assumed -- based on...well, everything about Elliott’s personality -- that he was an only child. But now he’d seen a few photos on the walls -- a young Evenlyn smiling with three young boys and a baby, all of them with brown hair and Elliott’s pretty eyes, a photo of three handsome young men --  _ seriously, the ugly gene evidently just skipped the Witt family entirely _ \-- and a young kid. But the way Elliott had made it sound when he invited him, it seemed like it would have just been Evenlyn and Elliott spending the holiday together if Elliott hadn't brought guests, so perhaps they were all off-planet, spending the holidays with their own spouses and children. 

...Which would be ideal, because meeting all three of Elliott’s older brothers at once sounded absolutely  _ terrifying, _ especially since everyone in Elliott’s life was so damn protective of him. Park included.

_ Well, at least if his family interrogates me, it probably won’t be with a knife held to my throat, _ he thinks, wincing at the memory of Renee’s blade piercing his chest while she all but strangled him in his bedroom for not reporting the intel she’d sent him to collect on Elliott.  _ Probably. _

“I did not know you had siblings,” Park says. “Will they be joining us tomorrow?”

The second the question has exited his mouth, the look on Elliott’s face makes him wish he hadn’t asked.

“They, uh...n-no, they won’t be here.”

Elliott is staring down at his hands, and it seems like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. Then he does.

“They’re dead.”

All of the air in Park’s lungs is suddenly sucked from his chest, like somebody opened an airlock inside of him, depressurizing his fucking heart.

“D-Don’t...don’t let my mom hear you say that, though,” Elliott continues before Park can think of anything to say. “They all went missing in action during the war. Never found the bodies. Mom wouldn’t do any funerals, kept all their stuff. Keeps this shitty old house, even though I keep begging her to let me buy her a new one with some of my winnings.”

Elliott sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. 

“Sometimes the way she talks about them...it’s like she thinks they’re gonna walk through the door one day, just sit down at the table and join us for pork chops. Like...like they just got lost on their way home or something.” Elliott pauses for a moment, blinking back tears. “They’re  _ dead. _ I know they are. Deep down, she does too, but she won’t admit it.”

_ Shit. Fuck.  _

“Elliott, I--”

“Sorry,” the trickster interrupts. “Anyway, uh, I p-put your stuff in there. This is Mark’s old room. Has the best bed, 'cept for mine, of course.” Elliott winks at him, already back to his cheerful, charming self. “I’m gonna hit the hay, my internal clock is all jacked up from the time difference here. Let me know if you need anything, mmkay?”

Park nods, unsure what to say because his mind is reeling from what he just learned and he doesn’t know why it  _ hurts _ so much, but the revelation is shocking, making him feel so sad so suddenly, it takes his breath away.

“And hey...thanks for coming. I mean it. Also, uh, who the fuck is Hyeon?” Elliott gives him a crooked little smile, but it fades when Park doesn’t reply. 

_ Oh, it’s just my fake name, no big deal. _

_ Fuck. _

“It’s my name,” Tae Joon hopes he sounds convincing.

“Oh,” says Elliott. “I like it.” 

Elliott’s beaming at him, but Park is suddenly so angry at himself he can’t speak. He doesn’t _ know _ what to say. So he says nothing.

The trickster turns to leave, looking a little glum again, but Park finally collects himself enough to catch Witt by the wrist and pull him back at the last second, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist. His other hand comes up to stroke Elliott’s cheek for a moment before he leans in, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss that makes the gorgeous legend in his arms sigh sweetly.

When Park finally pulls away, Elliott’s blushing.

“Good night, Elliott,” Park murmurs softly, giving Elliott a small smile.

Elliott smiles back. “‘G’night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the vampires bite. Or do, if the vampire in question is particularly handsome...my door is always open, just sayin’.” 

He winks at Park and then he’s out the door, into the hallway, and Tae Joon hears the sound of Elliott’s bedroom door opening and closing.

Park collapses on the bed, feeling surprisingly tired, considering all he’d done all day was sit in a shuttle and stand around awkwardly. He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep for a while, though. His heart is aching too much. He understands the pain of losing a sibling, the pain of never knowing for sure exactly what happened, wondering,  _ did it hurt? Were they scared?  _

_ Could...they still be alive? _

It’s not the loss that tortures you, it’s the lack of closure. The little flame of hope that won’t go out, that tempts you with the idea that you might see them again, that maybe they aren’t really gone. It’s torture, and Park endures it every day. Mila was the closest thing he had to a sibling, and not knowing whether she was really dead or if she was being held in some Syndicate blacksite, tortured for information, or forced into working for them nearly drove him insane, so he tried not to think about it much. 

His phone buzzes.

**11:59PM Elliott:** Hey, no pressure on sleeping arrangements. Sorry if I made you feel weird, I was just messing around. If this...whatever we’re doing...is something you want to keep only between us, I get it, and that’s cool. If what you want is sex with no strings attached, I can do that, too. I’m doing my best, but I’m flying blind here, Park. I just...don’t know what you want, most of the time.

**11:59PM Elliott: ** Thanks for coming here, though. I know it means a lot to my mom to not have to spend tomorrow alone. It means a lot to me, too. 

**12:00AM Elliott:** Sweet dreams, handsome.

  
  


\-------------------------

  
  


Elliott felt weird.

Being home felt weird.

Everything felt weird.

Renee and Park seemed to be getting along better-ish, which was also weird, but definitely not a bad thing. Ever since Park got attacked, Renee had been a little friendlier towards the hacker. And after winning that duos game with Elliott, she had stopped avoiding them both so much, which was nice.

Still, being back on Solace, back at his Mom’s, back in his childhood bedroom -- it felt strange. Perhaps because the last time he’d been home, he hadn’t been a bloodsucking parasite, nor had he been falling in love with his newest team mate.

Honestly, the bloodsucking thing wasn’t even that weird anymore. But Park? Park always made him feel weird, because the guy was impossible to read. He’d hunted down Elliott’s darkest secret only to...volunteer to let him  _ suck blood from his thigh _ to help him hide it. He’d called him an idiot and then offered to buy him a drink. He’d gone back to Elliott’s room, and made the first move, and bent Elliott over his bed for a night of the most mindblowing sex  _ ever, _ and then he’d disappeared. He’d sent him a fucking  _ dick pic,  _ accepted an invite to meet Elliott’s  _ mom _ for Christ’s sake...and then he hadn’t said a word when Elliott thanked him for it...but  _ then _ he grabbed him and kissed him...and then slept in one of the guest rooms anyway, ignoring Elliott’s text messages. He was so hot and cold, on and off, all the time. It was jarring and confusing. It was hot as  _ fuck _ sometimes, too, but for every high there was a low that left Elliott feeling like a goddamned idiot. 

_ And now all of a sudden he’s got a first name? Okay… _

_ Hyeon. _ It was a pretty name. Elliott wasn’t surprised at that -- everything about Park was pretty. But it had come out of goddamn nowhere. Of course Park  _ had _ a name. It was just a bit strange that Elliott was only just now hearing it. He vaguely remembered hearing Park mumble the name his first day on the dropship, but he hadn’t heard it since, and at some point, everyone had just started calling him Park, so Elliott had, too. People had nicknames. It wasn’t that weird. It was just weird he was suddenly using it now. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, of course. It was certainly better than Park introducing himself to Elliott’s mom by his Apex Games moniker. That would have been weirder.

But Park---or  _ Hyeon, _ or whatever -- he was a pretty secretive guy. Elliott had been pushing his luck even inviting him there in the first place, he knew. It had just sort of slipped out in a moment of post-coital recklessness, and Park’s eyes had gone a little wide for a moment, and suddenly Elliott had felt like a total asshole for springing it on him in a moment like that, while both of them were naked and still coming down from the high of orgasm.

“It w-wouldn’t be just you and me, like, Renee and Path are coming too, we have guest rooms and shit. It won’t be, like,  _ weird,” _ Elliott had stammered nervously. “Natalie is supposed to come, too, but apparently she has plans with -- I shit you not --  _ Caustic, _ which is so fucking weird I don’t even know what to think about it.”

Park looked like he knew what to think about it. 

“Disgusting,” he’d sneered, looking mildly horrified.

“I mean, her dad died a while back and they’re both huge science nerds or whatever so if he’s trying to be, I don’t know, like, a mentor or something, then that’s...actually kind of sweet, if slightly terrifying. But If they’re fucking, though, I’m gonna vomit, seriously. Uh, anyway, I just--my mom said to invite everybody so um...yeah,” he’d said, after rambling on like an absolute idiot and very much feeling the part. For some reason he then  _ kept talking. _

“So, like, I don’t know if you have plans for Thanksgiving, or if Thanksgiving is a thing you do but um, if it’s a thing you want to do, you should do it with me! That’s what she said. Fuck, sorry, I can’t help it.” 

_ Why is my brain like this? Seriously. Please kill me. _

“N-no pressure, though,” he’d added nervously. “Like, you don’t have to answer right now. Or ever.” Elliott couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed so hard for non-sexual reasons.

Then Park -- who had up until that moment just been looking at Elliott quietly and listening to him ramble, for the most part -- gave him this adorable, sleepy sort of smile, and said, “Okay.”

_ ‘Okay’? ‘Okay’ what? Okay you want to come? Okay you’re never giving me an answer? _

But Elliott hadn’t been brave enough to ask for clarification -- Park had already snuggled back up to him with his head on Elliott’s chest, and they had both been exhausted from the night’s... _ activities, _ and Elliott had decided not to further make an idiot out of himself by asking Park what he meant.

Then neither of them spoke a word of it for the rest of the week. Park had just...shown up at the shuttle bay a few minutes before Pathfinder and Renee met up with them. He’d said nothing, just given Elliott a small smile before pulling him inside the shuttle, out of view of any potential onlookers, and pushing him down into a seat. He’d then proceeded to climb right onto Elliott’s lap, bringing their mouths together in an amorous kiss that Pathfinder nearly walked right in on.

They’d leapt apart just before the MRVN entered the shuttle, both of them red-faced and attempting to conceal the evidence of their arousal with limited success, thanking whatever cosmic powers that be that it had been the robot and not Renee who walked in on them. Renee never missed  _ anything, _ and though she obviously knew they were...together...Park still seemed like he feared she might murder him anyway if she actually witnessed evidence of it. Thankfully, Pathfinder didn’t seem to notice anything particularly amiss.

And that had been that. And now Park was sleeping next door in Mark’s old room and Elliott was feeling like a pushy idiot again.

He sighed, frustrated with himself. 

_ Maybe this was a mistake. _

His phone buzzed.

**12:45AM Gibby:** How’s it going brudda? You gotta give me the deets! I’m trying to imagine him interacting with your mom but I can’t stop laughing long enough to really picture it. 

**12:45AM Gibby: ** C’mon, I promise I won’t tell Silva!

Elliott couldn’t help but grin a little bit.

**12:46AM Elliott:** She already loves him, he impressed her in like 0.2 seconds with his nerd skills. We’re all shuttle-lagged though so everyone pretty much went to bed the second we got home. I feel like tomorrow is gonna be awkward AF. I’ll keep you posted, assuming I don’t off myself from embarrassment first.

**12:47AM Elliott: ** We’re sleeping in separate rooms so Mom doesn’t give him The Talk. I don’t think he knows what he wants from...this. I’m trying not to scare him off =/

**12:50AM Gibby:** Aww, hang in there, brudda. If you were gonna scare him off, you’d have done it already! JK lol <3

**12:50AM Gibby: ** For real though, you didn’t put a gun to his head. He doesn’t have to be there. But he is, isn’t he? Sounds like he knows exactly what he wants, my man. 

Elliott smiled. Makoa always knew exactly what to say.

**12:52AM Elliott:** You know what? You’re right. Thanks, buddy. I needed to hear that. Tomorrow should be...interesting, at least. Pray 4 me lol.

**12:54AM Gibby:** You got this, brudda!

Finally feeling some of the tension in his mind relax, Elliott turned the light off and snuggled into the comforter. His apartment on Solace had a way fancier mattress, but no way was he staying there when he could stay at his mom’s place instead. It was familiar and cozy and he needed some familiar, cozy shit after the absolutely  _ insane _ first half of the season. A little normalcy would go a long way after what he'd been through, and something about being in his childhood home made sleeping alone a little easier.

  
  


\--------

  
  


Despite the shuttle lag, Park is finding sleep to be elusive.

He’s heard it said that time heals all wounds, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t heal wounds like this -- wounds that need answers, need closure to heal. Huge, gaping wounds that will make you go insane wondering “what if?”  _ What if they’re still out there? What if I can save them? What if I can get them back? _

Park had only experienced this kind of wound once. Elliott’s family had suffered it three separate times. And suddenly the strong bond between Elliott and his mother -- how much he mentions her, how protective she is of him, how involved she is in his life, how he’s obviously been spoiled absolutely rotten by her -- all of it makes sense. Elliott is all Evenlyn has left. Her only surviving child. 

Park is pretty sure she’s Elliott’s only family, too. He hasn’t heard Elliott ever mention a father, and he damn sure isn’t going to ask about one now, especially after how things went when he inquired about the brothers. The house was full of family photos, and none of them showed Evenlyn with a partner -- it was always just her and the four boys. Whether Elliott’s father had also died tragically, or just went out to get a bottle of ejuice and never came back, Park wasn’t sure. But the details didn’t really matter because in the end, the effect was the same: a mother and son, completely alone in the world.

Now he’s thinking about the holosuit, about how Evenlyn created it to keep her only surviving son safe. Alive. Thinking about how Elliott uses the decoys to give himself some company when he’s bored or lonely. How the decoys are probably the closest thing he has to siblings now. And Park doesn’t know why, but he’s crying. For Elliott. For Elliott’s mother, and for his three lost brothers. For Mila. For himself, which makes him feel like an asshole, because everyone else he’s thinking about has it so much worse than him. And because he _ is _ an asshole, for almost getting killed and putting Elliott through another loss. But mostly for letting the man fall in love with a criminal who is on the run -- and probably always will be.

_ He already has plenty of ghosts in his life without you complicating things, Tae Joon. _

Angry at his own tears, he gets up from the bed, crossing the room to the chair Elliott had sat his backpack in. His coat is draped over it, and he reaches into the right pocket, returning to the bed once his fingers find what they’re searching for.

Park takes a drag from the electronic cigarette, feeling some of the tension in his chest start to fade. But it comes right back when his gaze falls on the nightstand next to the bed, which has a framed holophoto on it. There’s a teenage boy in the photo who is undeniably Elliott. He’s smiling with his arm thrown around the shoulder of a slightly older man who looks to be in his early to mid-twenties. The man shares Elliott’s pretty eyes and kind smile. He’swearing some sort of military armor. The holophoto is moving, of course, and Park watches as the older man puts the younger one in a headlock, and playfully ruffling teenage-Elliott’s hair. Elliott pouts, trying rearrange his curls, but both of them are laughing.

Picking the holophoto up from the nightstand, Park flips it over in his hand. The small holoscreen on the back of the frame displays some text, which dates the photo as being taken fifteen years ago.

_ May 25th, 3004 _

_ Mark with Elliott, before shipping out  _

Reading the caption makes his chest constrict. 

_ Was this the last time he saw his brother? _

Park feels tears stinging at his eyes again.

\--

When he pushes open Elliott’s bedroom door, Park freezes for a moment, because there are  _ two _ people in Elliott’s bed. Then it occurs to him that one is a decoy, and he’s pretty sure it’s the shy one from the bar. It’s definitely not the scary one from his dream, because it’s snuggled up against Elliott’s chest, Elliott has an arm around it, and they’re both asleep, looking fucking  _ adorable. _

For some reason the sight makes Park’s heart ache.

  
  


\-------

  
  


Elliott gasps, jerking awake, and he’s pretty sure he hears the sound of a decoy de-manifesting beside him just as he does. But something is under his covers, too. It’s kissing his stomach, and he shudders, praying it’s not the decoy that likes to bite. He’d been alone when he fell asleep, he was pretty sure. 

_ Did I really manifest  _ _ two _ _ decoys while I was asleep?  _

_ The holosuit isn’t even on, what-- _

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels a warm tongue slip just below the elastic band of his boxers, making him gasp a second time.

Then he feels it again, and realizes the tongue is pierced.

_ No way! _

Ripping back the comforter, Elliott’s heart fucking palpitates when he sees what’s under it. Park is looking up at him with those gorgeous dark eyes, dragging that wicked tongue over the sensitive skin below Elliott’s navel, just above his dick...which is rapidly hardening, because  _ holy fuck. _

Park lifts his head up, gazing at Elliott with a look that's hard to read. 

Elliott barely manages to gasp out, “Oh, h-hi,” before Park is straddling his hips, kissing him like Elliott’s lips taste as good to him as Park's blood does to Elliott. The hacker grinds his hips down into his lap, and Elliott moans when his cock ruts up against Park’s ass. His hands fly up to grab his hips and Elliott realizes the man isn’t wearing one goddamn article of clothing, that he snuck into Elliott’s bedroom and then stripped completely bare before slipping under the covers and waking the trickster up with his  _ mouth. _

Elliott finally pulls back for air, gasping,  _ “Fuck, _ baby,”

Park is kissing his throat now, still grinding that perfect ass against Elliott’s dick, which is now tenting his boxers. He can feel Park’s arousal, too -- when the hacker leans forward to mouth at his shoulder, Elliott can feel his hard, leaking length trapped between them.

“Please,” Park groans into his shoulder, grinding back on Elliott’s cock.

There are so many filthy things Elliott wants to do to him in this moment, he can scarcely fit them all in his brain at once. But something feels off, and he isn’t sure what until he pulls back and asks, “What is it, baby? What do you need?”

When he looks at Park, the moonlight streaming in his bedroom window hits the man’s perfect face just right and Elliott can see that there are tears in his eyes. His heart stops.

“You,” Park says. “I need you.”

Elliott doesn’t know what to think, and his confusion must show on his face, because Park suddenly won’t look him in the eyes anymore.

“You...you said you do not know what I want,” the hacker murmurs softly, leaning in again to rest his forehead against Elliott’s and letting his eyes fall shut. “I want  _ you, _ Elliott. I want you all the time. Every day. Every night. Always. I want you to be mine. Please, I--” Park cuts himself off, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Baby,” Elliott says, stroking a hand through that impossibly soft hair and blinking back tears of his own now. “I  _ am _ yours. Fuck, I am  _ all _ yours, for as long as you want me to be. You’re all I think about, god, you--”

Elliott doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Park’s lips are on his again, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Elliott doesn’t care. He wants the bruises and the hickeys and the love bites, and he’s going to get them, he realizes, and get to keep them for a while, because they aren’t on the drop ship, so their skin won’t automatically heal.

_ Hell fuckin' yes. _

Elliott moans into Park’s mouth at the idea of them leaving lasting marks on each other, the thought making him throb with desire. Park is licking into his mouth with that wicked tongue and Elliott’s cock is so hard he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get to fuck something immediately -- one of those half-synthetic hands, that sweet mouth -- he doesn’t care what, he just needs it, desperately, and very,  _ very _ soon. 

He nearly sobs when Crypto grinds down onto his dick again, but he’s shocked to hear the man above him  _ actually _ sob,  _ “Please, _ Elliott,” again, sounding even more desperate than Elliott currently feels.

His fingers are digging into Park’s angular hips now, rocking them down against him as he thrusts up, fucking desperate for the tiny bit of friction he gets for his trouble. Park pulls back from his mouth, gasping out another plea against his shoulder as he grinds his ass down against Elliott’s erection.

“Please what, beautiful?” he purrs in Park’s ear. “What is it? Tell me what you need.” 

Elliott’s almost positive he already knows, but he wants to be absolutely sure. And he kind of wants to make him say it. Make him admit he wants it bad right now, as bad as Elliott wants it every second of every goddamn day.

Park is still hiding his face in Elliott’s shoulder. He lets out a desperate little whine when Elliott asks the question, bucking his hips in frustration.

“Baby, will you look at me? Please?” 

Park leans back, putting enough distance between their faces that they can see each other. But he still won’t look Elliott in the eyes. Elliott reaches up, stroking the side of Crypto’s pretty face, running his thumb along that pillowy bottom lip, already pink and puffy from the rough kissing.

Elliott knows he's being a little mean, but he can’t really help it. And Park does kind of deserve it. 

_ “Look _ at me, Park,” Elliott says, much less gently than before. He's not asking.

That does it. Park’s eyes snap up to meet his almost instantly, and Elliott can feel the heat radiating from Park’s face where it’s pressed against his hand. His instant obedience makes Elliott's cock throb, and Park lets out a surprised little _ “ah!”  _ when Elliott bucks his hips up against his ass again.

“Do you want me to  _ fuck  _ you, sweetheart? Is that what you need?” Elliott growls, unable to conceal how ragged with lust his own voice is.

Park whimpers, nodding desperately and squeezing his eyes shut as he grinds his hips down on Elliott’s aching cock again.

Elliott smiles wickedly. “Oh no, I gotta hear you say it, baby. I wanna hear you  _ beg.”  _

Park shudders and leans forward, bringing his mouth near Elliott’s ear and whining at the pressure the change in position is putting on his aching cock. When he speaks, his voice is needier, more desperate than Elliott has ever heard it sound before.

“Elliott,  _ please,” _ Park moans into his ear, grinding back against Elliott’s dick and forward against his stomach, leaking precum everywhere and gasping each time he gains a little friction where he wants it. “Please fuck me. I n-need it,  _ jebal, naleul ttameog-eojwo…” _

_ Dunno what that means, but it sounds good to me. _

“Any- _ fuckin' _ -thing you want, baby,” Elliott growls, emphasizing the curse with another rough thrust up against Park's ass and feeling like he’s going to burst into flames any second now. “Anything.”

Sucking a finger into his mouth and slicking it with spit, Elliott slips his hand behind the gorgeous man above him, pressing into his core. Park gasps, hips jerking back against Elliott’s finger, which slips into him easily. Elliott realizes it slipped in so easily because Park is  _ already _ stretched out and slicked up for him, because -- as with every ridiculously sexy thing the fucker does -- he’s  _ planned ahead _ for it. Before Elliott can even really begin to process how fucking hot this revelation is, Park is dripping lube he grabbed from god-knows-where into his palm and reaching down to slick Elliott’s cock with it.

_ Are you even real? Fuck me. _

Park leans forward, bracing a hand on Elliott’s chest and lifting his hips just enough for Elliott to line his cock up, then he’s sinking down on Elliott’s length, taking it all in one go and clapping his other hand over his own mouth to muffle the moan that tears itself from his throat as he does.

“Fffffuck, baby, oh  _ fuck,” _ Elliott’s gasping, shuddering, and Park is doing the exact same thing above him, trembling with his eyes squeezed shut. “You feel so fucking good, sugar, oh my  _ god--mmnngh!” _

Elliott’s interrupted when Park rocks his hips down a little, pressing Elliott even deeper. Park’s got one hand gripping the headboard for balance, the other still sealed over his own mouth to muffle the cries that keep escaping him each time he rocks his hips down on Elliott's cock.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby. So goddamn beautiful like this,” Elliott rasps as he begins thrusting up to meet Park’s steadily quickening pace.

Park feels so unbearably  _ good. _ He’s tight and hot and he’s pulsing around Elliott’s throbbing dick, bouncing in his fucking lap and moaning as he rides him.

_ “Jebal, meomchuji ma!” _

Park is practically sobbing into his own hand and clinging to the headboard for dear life with the other as Elliott grips his hips and ruts up into him, wishing he could keep Park here forever, just like this, moaning and shaking and sobbing with pleasure, begging Elliott not to stop.

_ Jesus fuck. He is going to be the death of me. Wait, no, I think I’m technically dead already. Undead? Whatever. God, look at him. _

Elliott peels a hand off Park’s hip and brings it to his own mouth, licking his palm before reaching between them and grasping Park’s neglected cock, which has been leaking pre-cum all over both of them for the last five minutes.

_ “Ah! _ Elliott!  _ Ye, jebal, _ don’t stop!” Park is shaking so hard now that it’s shaking Elliott, too. The needy little cries he makes as he desperately grinds down on the trickster’s thick cock and thrusts up into his hand are driving Elliott close to the edge.

“Oh baby, I’m not stopping til you fuckin’ make a mess all over me,” Elliott growls, giving him a particularly rough thrust. He feels Park’s cock twitch at his words and knows he’s getting close.

Releasing the headboard and his own mouth, Park leans back as far as he can, balancing with his hands bracing on the bed behind him and bringing his hips down on Elliott’s lap at a slightly different angle, one that makes both of them groan from how good it feels. The new position has also bathed Park’s lithe figure in a stream of moonlight, illuminating him enough for Elliott to see every perfect curve and contour of him. His head is thrown back and that strange, beautiful throat is exposed, every muscle in his abdomen tensing up with each gasping breath. 

Park isn’t what Elliott would call ‘skinny,’ exactly -- he’s muscular like all the legends are, but it’s a lean sort of muscular, and his body fat percentage is on the low end of the spectrum. This might explain why Elliott, who is still stroking the hacker’s throbbing dick, notices that when Park’s slender hips drop down to take every inch of his cock, a spot on Park’s lower belly, just below his navel, bulges out a little. At first, Elliott’s sure his eyes are playing tricks on him. But each time he slams up into Park’s gorgeous body, it happens again. Seeing it nearly makes him cum right there, and he has to close his eyes to stop it from happening.

_ Is it possible to spontaneously combust from someone else's hotness? Just wondering, fuck.  _

Park is whimpering now, eyes shut and leaking tears again, chest heaving. They're the good kind of tears though, if the sounds coming out of him are any indication. He’s thrusting frantically up into Elliott’s hand and rocking his hips back down onto the trickster’s thick cock and shuddering with every stroke. 

“S-so close, Elliott,  _ please…”  _ Park gasps, struggling to keep his voice low. His cock is twitching in Elliott’s hand.

Park’s breath is hitching, he’s still desperately canting his hips when Elliott lets go of his cock momentarily to sit up and pull Park back down to him, draping him over his chest and thrusting into him with one arm around the hacker’s waist, holding him firmly in place so Elliott can fuck up into him with all his strength. Park sobs something unintelligible into Elliott’s pillow. 

_ This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. _

_ I’ve been thinking that a  _ _ lot _ _ lately... _

Elliott reaches back between them, wrapping his hand around the hacker’s throbbing dick and giving him a few teasing strokes. Park thrusts desperately into Elliott’s hand, still grinding back on his cock and whimpering desperate pleas into Elliott’s shoulder.

“Please,  _ ah! _ Fuck, _ fuck, _ just like that,  _ please--” _

“Come on, sugar,” Elliott groans, swiping a thumb over the head of Park’s dripping cock and pumping him faster. “I wanna see you shoot.”

It only takes a few more strokes before Park is cumming all over the trickster’s stomach, every muscle in his body clenching for a moment as he sobs out,  _ “Elliott!” _ and tightens up around Witt’s cock so hard it almost hurts.

Then he goes limp, still shuddering with occasional aftershocks. Elliott can’t stop, though. Park just sounds so good like this and  _ fuck, _ he  _ feels _ so good, and Elliott can feel Park’s cum, hot and slippery on his stomach, and all he can think about is spilling into that tight, warm heat. He releases his grip on Park’s cock, moving both hands back to the man's hips and yanking them down to meet each of his desperate thrusts. He’s doing his best to muffle his voice against Park’s scarred shoulder, praying he doesn’t wake the rest of the house up. Park is so pliant and passive and fucking  _ docile _ right now, moaning softly as he takes each punishing thrust of Elliott’s hips and every inch of his dick, like he’s too spent to do anything but lie there and get fucked.

_ God, that is so fuckin’ hot. Shit. _

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” Elliott grunts, digging his fingers into Park’s hips so hard he knows he’s leaving bruises, but can’t stop. “Is this what you needed? Cause I’ll give it to you any-- _ fuck! _ \--any goddamned day, baby. Any time you want it. You’re so fucking  _ tight, _ fuck, fuck, oh god I’m gonna-- _ mmmmnnngh!” _

Elliott buries his cock as deep as it will go and fucking  _ sobs _ when he spills into him, filling Park with spurt after spurt of hot cum as both of them tremble with pleasure. The gorgeous hacker whimpers softly, and Elliott feels some of his seed leaking out of him, dripping back down his cock like there’s not enough room for it all. He knows he’s probably clutching the man against his chest a little too tightly, but he can’t stop himself. He never wants to let go.

Neither of them move for an indeterminate amount of time. Eventually, Park rolls off him and they lie side by side, each of them still trying to catch their breath.

"Yes," Park says finally, turning to look at Elliott. "That is what I wanted."

Elliott giggles.

\--

“So, your name’s Hy-Hyeon--did I say it right?”

“Yes.”

Elliott’s doing what he always does after sex -- watching Park exhale little clouds of sweet-smelling vapor and trying to memorize every beautiful curve of the man’s body before he puts the rest of his clothes back on. He’s already slipped back into his black boxer-briefs, which is a shame.

“So...is that--I mean, is it one of those situations where your first name isn’t the name you go by? Like, uh, I’m just--” Elliott pauses, trying to collect himself. “W-what do you want me to call you? Like, do you have a preference, or…?” 

_ He’d probably prefer you stop calling him ‘Daddy’, idiot.  _ Hopefully that would be easier now that Elliott could sub in an actual  _ name. _

“‘Park’ is fine,” the gorgeous hacker says. Elliott thinks he’s done speaking, but then he adds, “You may call me whatever you wish.”

_ Dadd--NOPE. No. Stop that. _

Elliott resists the urge to blurt out the filthy nickname he’s been calling Park in bed, but what comes out of his mouth instead is even worse. 

“And what if I wish to call you...my boyfriend?”

He feels his own eyes go wide when the question leaves his mouth, wishing it hadn’t. But he can’t bring himself to do what he usually does when he’s said something dumb: interrupt the person he’s talking to before they can reply, backtracking and apologizing and clair--clarif-- _ explaining _ what he really meant to say.

Problem is, that  _ is _ what he meant to say. He quickly follows it up with a mumbled, “N-no pressure,” like he always does after asking too much of someone. Which is all the time. Especially with Park. Hyeon.  _ Whatever. _

Park is stretched out next to him on the bed, lying on his back and gazing at Elliott’s bedroom ceiling as he puffs away on that little ecig, looking like a fucking snack. Probably because he literally  _ is _ a snack, at least, as far as Elliott’s concerned. When he hears Elliott’s question, he just continues staring pensively at the ceiling, takes another drag from the vape. For a moment, Elliott’s not sure if Park didn’t hear him, or if he  _ did _ hear him but doesn’t want to talk about it.

He’s about to start apologizing when Park moves, rolling over on his side so he can gaze at Elliott. He doesn’t look...displeased, exactly. His expression is hard to read. He traces those strange fingertip sensors softly over Elliott’s skin, stroking them through the sparse hair on the trickster’s chest. Elliott shudders. It isn’t fair. They  _ just _ finished fucking, but all it takes to get Elliott going again is recieving approximately 3.5 seconds of physical affection from the stunning man next to him.

_You are so fuckin’ beautiful. I am so fuckin’ in love with you. I am so _**_fucked._** _Fuck!_

After reaching over Elliott to place his ecig on the nightstand, Park rolls over onto his belly, propping himself up on his elbows. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to the center of Elliott’s chest, near the spot he’d been tracing with his fingers a moment before. When their eyes meet, Elliott’s heart momentarily forgets how to beat.

“Elliott,” Park says, that gorgeous deep voice all soft and tender. “You may call me whatever you wish.”

“Well yeah, you said that, but what I mean is-- _ oh!” _

He’s interrupted when Park shifts and rests some of his weight on Elliott’s body. Then he slips a knee between the trickster’s thighs and starts trailing kisses up his chest, over his collarbones.

_ Mmm, god. _

“If you wish to call me Park, you may,” the hacker says, grazing the planes of Elliott’s chest with his teeth and making him shiver. 

“If you wish to call me Hyeon,” he continues, tongue darting out to tease one of Elliott’s nipples, making him gasp before traveling up the side of his neck, “You may.” Now he’s sucking at the soft skin of Elliott’s throat. 

_ Ugh...why are you so hot? _

“If you wish to call me  _ ‘Daddy’,” _ Park growls, that velveteen voice right in Elliott’s ear, “You may.” 

Elliott’s face goes redder than a thermite grenade and just as hot. He’s pretty sure Park felt his dick throb just then, too.

_ Oh my fucking god, nghhhhh _

Park pulls back from Elliott’s neck. He’s sort of crouched over Elliott now, smiling down at him like a Predator whose got a Silver-rank player caught in their sights. 

“And if you wish to call me your boyfriend,” Park continues, leaning closer, “Then that is who I am.” 

_ OH EM GEE _

Elliott gasps but it’s silenced by Park’s lips, which surge forward to capture Elliott’s the moment Park finishes speaking. It’s not...aggressive, exactly, but it’s not soft, either. It’s passionate, needy, almost desperate. Which is perfect because ‘passionate, needy, and desperate’ is exactly how Elliott currently feels.

  
  


\-----

  
  


_ Fuck, why do your lips have to feel so good, Elliott? And your hands. And your skin. And all of you. Jenjang! _

Park feels like maybe their conversation could have continued -- and probably should have -- but he couldn’t stop himself. He never can.

_ You’re a mess, Park, and you’re making an even bigger one. Mystik would be  _ _ furious _ _ . You’re supposed to keep your distance from the others. Acquiring a boyfriend is not keeping your distance! _

Park doesn’t plan on mentioning this particular mess in his next letter to his mentor, which he needs to write soon. He doesn’t plan on mentioning it ever, if he can help it.

When Elliott asked if he could call Park his boyfriend, Park could have said no. He  _ should  _ have said no -- he is  _ not _ boyfriend material, not by a longshot. He is unstable and dangerous and selfish, so fucking selfish, all the goddamned time, lately, Especially when it comes to Elliott. 

_ Motae sollo. _ The phrase roughly translates to  _ “alone since birth,” _ which is an accurate description of Park. But what it actually refers to is a person who has never had a romantic relationship -- sex doesn’t count. There’s not really an equivalent English word for it, but the closest one Park can think of is “emotional virgin.” It refers to someone who has never had a committed partner before. That’s also an accurate description of Park.

He's never had a boyfriend before. Or a girlfriend, for that matter. He's never had anyone that wanted to stick around in his bed the morning after. Which is fine, because he's never  _ wanted _ anyone to. Until now.

So naturally, when Elliott asked if he could call him his boyfriend, he’d said  _ yes. _ Even though he knew he could never be what Elliott wanted or needed -- let alone what he  _ deserved _ \-- he  _ still _ said yes.  _ Yes, you can call me your boyfriend. _ He said yes because he’s a selfish asshole. Because he wants Elliott to be  _ his. _

_ “Just because you care about him too doesn't mean he belongs to you.” _

Renee’s words echo in his head but he doesn’t hear them, not really. The soft little gasps and pleas he’s pulling out of Elliott are the only thing he can focus on listening to, the only thing he  _ wants _ to listen to, currently.

_ “Ah! _ Fuck, b-baby…” the beautiful legend beneath him gasps.

Park’s trailing kisses back down Elliott’s chest now, gently sinking his teeth into the parts of him that look particularly delicious -- so everywhere, basically. The trickster is so quiet right now, so sweet and submissive, just letting out these pathetic, needy little gasps and whimpers. Park can barely believe he’s the same man who, less than an hour ago -- had Park fucking  _ begging _ for it, squirming in his lap, bouncing on his dick, moaning like a fucking whore and pleading with Elliott to let him cum.

Elliott’s the one doing the pleading this time, though. He’s rock hard, Park can feel the man’s stiff cock where it’s pressed against him, throbbing and leaking precum all over Park’s thigh as Elliott ruts up against it.

“P-please...please…Hyeon...” 

_ Fuck. _

It’s not even his name, so hearing Elliott moan it shouldn’t be so goddamn fucking  _ hot, _ but it is.

“What is it, Elliott?” he asks, knowing precisely what the fuck it is. “What do you need?”

Elliott whimpers.

_ “Ah-ah, _ that won’t do. Let me hear you say it,  _ jagiya,” _ Park growls against Elliott’s sternum, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the trickster’s bare stomach.

_ Seriously, these abs are insane. I need to start hitting the gym with him, fuck... _

“Please, I--I need-- _ ah!” _ Elliott sobs out a broken little cry when Park wraps that synthetic palm, slick with spit, around his cock and gives it a few teasing pumps. When he lets go, Elliott  _ wails. _

_ “Miahnhe, nae sarang, _ I couldn’t hear you,” Park says, grinning. He can’t help it. Teasing Elliott like this is just too easy, too much fun, and too fucking delicious. Pinning the gorgeous, famous legend down and making him beg is quickly becoming Tae Joon’s favorite form of entertainment. 

_ He just looks so damn good like this, _ Park thinks distantly.

Elliott’s desperately grinding his aching cock against Park’s thigh now, whining in frustration, tears glinting in his eyes. Park’s cock throbs when he notices.

_ There has to be something wrong with me, why is that so hot? Jenjang! _

“B-baby, please-- _ ngh, fuck! _ \--” Elliott’s interrupted for a moment when Park squeezes his aching dick again. 

_ “Please _ fuck me. I n-need it so bad, oh my god,” he whimpers, going all red in the face when he adds, “I want you to cum in me…”

_ Oh god. Yes. _

“Fuck,  _ jagiya. _ So dirty…”

As much as Tae Joon enjoys Elliott’s frantic, needy begging, he can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs to be inside him.  _ Now. _

  
  


\--

  
  


Elliott lets out a surprised little yelp when he’s forcefully flipped onto his stomach, hips dragged up and back, into a kneeling position similar to the one he’d been in the first night Park ever touched him. The memory makes him shudder. He’s clutching his pillow, knowing it’s only a matter of time until he needs something to muffle his moans with.

He’s expecting to feel the slippery sensation of lube being dripped onto his ass, followed by the sweet stretch of slickened fingers, but that’s not what happens. Instead, Park gives his ass a little swat, and Elliott’s embarrassed how obscene the moan it pulls from his lips is. Park pauses behind him, doesn’t move a muscle for a moment, and Elliott’s pretty sure the heat of the shame radiating off him at this moment could set the bed alight. Then Park does it again, a little harder this time. The slap rings throughout the room, and Elliott lets out a sound that starts as a pained, surprised cry, but ends as a wanton, desperate moan. Park soothes the sting with those cool metal fingertips and the soft synthetic palm of his hand, and the sensation makes Elliott sigh.

_ Why does that feel so good? Ugh… _

He wiggles his hips a little, hoping Park will get the message that he likes it. A lot. 

Still massaging Elliott’s ass, Park chuckles darkly.

“Do you  _ enjoy _ being spanked, Elliott?” he asks, emphasizing his words with another slap to Elliott’s bare ass.

_“Ahh!_ _Mmmmm_fuck yeah, I do. I really, r-really do, _god…” _

Elliott feels Park’s grip on his ass tighten, squeezing his flesh a little harder.

“We need a safe word.  _ Now.” _ Park’s voice suddenly sounds rather strained. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

_ What if I  _ _ want _ _ you to hurt me?  _

_ God, shut up. He’s right. Safe word, safe word, uhhhh… _

“Oooh, I know!” Elliott says, groaning when that synthetic palm connects sharply with his ass again.

“Yes?”

“The safe word is ‘spider bite.’” 

  
  


\----

  
  


“Pleasepleasepleaseplease, baby, I need it so fucking bad, I need you to  _ fuck _ me,  _ please…” _

“So impatient,” Park muses, smirking.

_ God, he looks so good like this. _

Elliott’s still kneeling on the bed with his face in the pillow, ass in the air. That perfect ass is spanked red and Park can feel the heat radiating off Elliott’s skin from the repeated, stinging impacts of his hand. The trickster is still wiggling his hips like before, but even more desperately. His cock is so hard it looks painful, it’s swollen and thick, still leaking everywhere. Elliott’s trembling and moaning like he’s  _ already _ been fucked, but Park hasn’t laid a single cybernetic hand on him yet -- except to slap that gorgeous ass, of course.

Park knows Elliott’s waiting to feel the slippery sensation of lube being dripped on his ass, followed by the delicious stretch of Park’s slickened fingers and then, his cock -- and that’s coming, but first, Park has other plans.

He pushes Elliott’s hips forward a little bit, then he’s spreading those spanked-pink cheeks and dragging his tongue up between them, teasing Elliott’s puckered hole.

_ “Oh!” _ Elliott lets out a surprised little yelp, jerking away at first. But Park grabs his hips and drags him right back, burying his face in the trickster’s ass again. Elliott’s tensed up and whimpering at the intense new sensation, but after a moment he begins to relax, moaning when Park’s tongue slips into him.

“God, baby, that feels so fuckin’ good,  _ shit,” _ Witt gasps out, pressing his hips back against Park’s face. 

Park moans into him, thoroughly enjoying the way Elliott shudders from the sensation. He licks a stripe from Elliott’s balls up to his needy hole, slipping his tongue back inside and reveling in the way the man’s hips start to shake as Park tongue-fucks him. As much as he’d love to keep Elliott just like this for a while longer -- throbbing, begging, desperate to be fucked -- he’s got his own throbbing, needy cock still trapped in his boxers, and if it’s not buried in that perky ass in the next two minutes, Tae Joon’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind. He pulls back, chuckling at the pathetic little whine that escapes Elliott when he does.

“You’re delicious, Elliott,” Park says, uncapping the little bottle of lube and slicking Elliott’s ass even more than it already is. “But I think I’m ready for the main course now.”

_ That ass is mine tonight. _

The sound that comes out of Elliott’s mouth in reply isn’t even a word.

Then Park is spreading him open, cock squeezing through that tight ring of muscle and into pure fucking ecstasy.

“Fuck,  _ jagi!” _ Park groans, thrusting a little further into Elliott’s searing heat.

_ God, yes. You feel so good... _

Elliott seems incapable of speech at the moment. He’s clutching his pillow, whimpering into it and trying to jerk his hips back onto Park’s cock, trying to take it all at once, but Park’s not letting him move an inch. He doesn’t want to hurt him.

_ Control yourself, Park. _

“Elliott,” Park gasps, “Slow down, I don’t want to hurt y-- _ FUCK!” _

He’s cut off when Elliott uses that unnatural vampire strength to slam his hips back until Park’s cock is hilted in him as far as it can go. 

“Puh-le-ea-se, baby,” Elliott sobs into his pillow, breath hitching, still pressing his ass back insistently against Park’s hips. “Please give it to me,  _ please, _ I’ll be good, I promise, I--”

“You’ll be  _ good? _ Oh, I don’t think so, Elliott. Good boys don’t squirm and try to fuck themselves on my cock,” Park growls, voice so strained he barely sounds like himself. “Good boys hold still and fucking take whatever  _ Daddy _ gives them.” 

He punctuates the sentence with another slap to that gorgeous ass, then he’s pulling out an inch or two and slamming back in so hard he knows his hip bones are going to leave bruises. Elliott  _ sobs. _

_ Fuck it. We have a safe word.  _

Elliott’s trembling with the effort of holding still, letting out soft little whimpers every few moments but otherwise attempting to behave himself.

“That’s better  _ jagiya, jal haesseo,” _ Park purrs, smoothing his synthetic palms down the planes of Elliott’s bare back, feeling the trickster’s muscles begin to relax beneath his fingers. “Good boy.”

Elliott shudders, letting out a soft little moan.

_ You’re so perfect, Elliott. _

_ And I am so in love with you.  _

_ Fuck.  _

Pulling back a little, Park begins thrusting forward gently, groaning at the way Elliott tightens up and moans. He’s trying not to grip Elliott’s hips too hard, but it’s difficult because the harder he yanks them back onto his cock, the more Elliott  _ begs. _

_ “Please,” _ Elliott whines softly.

_ “Hm?” _ Park’s leaving a wet trail of kisses up the trickster’s spine, still thrusting at a steady, restrained pace. “What is it,  _ nae sarang?” _

“F-faster,  _ please,” _ Witt gasps out, all but vibrating with the effort it takes to hold still. “I n-n-need you to  _ fuck _ me, p-please Hyeon, I c-can’t... _ mnnngh.” _

Park loves the way Elliott’s slight stutter becomes more pronounced in moments like this, when he’s so turned on and needy he can’t focus on anything but getting fucked. It’s so  _ cute. _ Also, painfully arousing. And there’s that fake name again,  _ shit. _ It should make him feel guilty, but all it does is make him want to pound Elliott into the mattress. Instead, he slips an arm under Elliott’s ribs, pulling him back against his chest and pressing a soft kiss to the man’s shoulder. His thrusts are becoming more vicious, though -- he’s grinding his cockhead into Elliott so deeply they’re both starting to tremble. 

_ “Neonjinjja wanbyeoghaguna,” _ Park growls against the side of Elliott’s neck, lips brushing over his scars. “You’re so perfect, god...”

When Park wraps a hand around Elliott’s swollen cock, every single muscle in the trickster’s body tenses up and he sobs out, “Fuck, p-please-- _ ah!” _

Park groans into Elliott’s shoulder when the man clenches hard around him, and he can tell from the sniffling, Elliott’s crying.

“Shhhh,  _ jagi,” _ Park hushes him, pressing gentle kisses to the trickster’s throat as he begins stroking the man’s aching cock, still grinding his hips forward into Elliott’s ass. “Let me take care of you.”

“Mmmn,  _ ah!” _ Elliott’s head lolls back on Park’s scarred shoulder when he picks up the pace, unable to stop himself from slamming roughly into the gorgeous legend in his arms.

_ “Neoneun aleumdawoyo,” _ he moans against Elliott’s jaw. “You’re beautiful, Elliott.”

Elliott whimpers out another plea. It’s soft, but his tone is growing more and more desperate. Park can feel the man’s cock twitching in his hand each time Park thrusts forward into him.

“Please-- _ fuck! _ \--let me, l-let me-- _ ah!” _ Elliott’s trembling in his arms, clenching tight around him, cock throbbing in his grip.

“Cum for me,  _ aein,” _ Park groans, feeling ready to tip over the edge himself. “Let me see you spill.”

Park slams into him, still stroking his cock, and Elliott wails so loudly Park has to bring his other hand up and cover the trickster’s mouth to muffle the desperate howl that tears itself from Elliott’s lips when he cums, spurting over Park’s other hand and onto the sheets below. Park can feel the man’s tears leaking down his pretty cheeks as he sobs into the hacker’s soft, synthetic palm.

“This is all I think about, Elliott,” Park grunts near his ear, voice ragged with desire, thrusts growing sloppy. “Every day, every night,  _ fuck, _ I think about you. About-- _ ah! _ \--fucking you, and kissing you, about making you  ** _mine_ ** _ \---mmnnngh!” _

He’s so close, Elliott’s so warm and soft and tight,  _ fuck, _ and the way he’s still rutting his hips back on Park’s cock even as he shudders with overstimulation, whimpering into the hacker’s mechanically-modified hand -- it’s just too much, he can’t take it, and with a strangled cry he does his best to muffle in Witt’s shoulder, Tae Joon cums so hard he nearly sends the both of them crashing to the floor. 

_ “Fuck, _ Elliott,” he gasps, releasing Witt’s mouth and grabbing the headboard for balance.  _ “Neomu johda…” _ _ So good... _

Elliott lets out a soft little sigh, still shaking and catching his breath. After a few moments, Park releases him, pulling out as gently as he can and trying not to stare at the absolutely  _ obscene _ amount of cum that leaks out of Elliott when he does. 

_ Fuck, just...fuck. _

He can’t help the staring, though, because the sight in front of him seems almost too good to be true. Elliott is beautiful. He’s always beautiful, of course. But like this, right now? He’s not just beautiful, he’s _ divine. _ Sublime. Ravishing. His cheeks and ears and chest blushing pink, neck and shoulders littered with hickeys and love-bites, pretty eyes leaking happy tears while that perfect ass -- still a lovely shade of pinkish-red from the impacts of Park’s hand -- leaks cum. He’s still gasping, covered in a thin layer of sweat, his cock red and swollen, shuddering as Park’s seed begins dripping down onto his thighs.

Elliott makes a weak little noise in the back of his throat, shaking Park out of his reverie.

“Come here,” Park says softly, guiding Elliott down onto the mattress. 

The famous legend is still trembling, shaking with aftershocks. Park scoots down next to him on the bed, pulling the trickster back against his chest. 

“So beautiful,” Park murmurs, brushing the curls back from Elliott’s face and stroking his almost-artificial fingers through that perfect hair. “So good for me, Elliott,” He presses a soft kiss to the top of Elliott’s head. “Such a good boy.” 

_ And all mine. _

Elliott hums contentedly.

Park feels like the luckiest man in the Frontier.

  
  


\------

  
  


Renee’s laptop chimed, alerting her to a new message. A moment later, another one. She leaned forward, clicking open the first message and squinting at the screen.

** _To:_ ** _ Blasey, Renee; Witt, Elliott; Paquette, Natalie; MRVN UNIT 4731D; …(click for more) _

** _From:_ ** _ biodiv@syndscience.edu _

** _Subj:_ ** _ ATTN: All CRISPR Lab Employees _

_ Effective immediately, all bioengineering division employees will be required to show photo ID upon arrival at the CRISPR lab and surrender any personal communications devices before entering. They will also submit to a quick pat-down and a search of their belongings upon leaving. Also, a reminder -- IN/OUT logs are to be kept  _ _ accurate _ _ and up-to-date for security reasons. However,  _ _ effective immediately, there will be no access to the lab until after the holiday. _ _ Syndicate personnel are on-site today, and have closed the lab early so that repairs and renovations can begin.  _

_ If you have left personal belongings in the lab, you’ll have to wait until Monday to retrieve them. There will be a lab meeting Monday at 8:00AM sharp. Attendance is mandatory for all lab personnel. _

_ We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause our employees.  _

_ Enjoy your holiday weekend, _

_ SynSci Labs, Bioengineering Division _

  
  
  


** _To:_ ** _ Blasey, Renee _

** _From:_ ** _ Nox, Alexander _

** _Subject:_ ** _ URGENT: Asset #722 _

_ Renee, _

_ Get the hell down here the second you’re done reading this. #722 is getting worse. You need to take care of this. Now. The lab is a fucking disaster, and I just got a call from your boss. I told him a prowler escaped its containment unit. You’re welcome. _

_ Nobody’s dead -- thank god -- but four of my employees required hospitalization. If that MRVN hadn’t been there to pull him off Ms. Paquette, he’d have surely killed her. We barely got him back into containment. She’ll be alright, but there’s going to be a scar. In case you’ve forgotten, I've already lost two goddamn fingers to this bullshit, Renee. I'd like to keep the rest of them, if that's alright with you.  _

_ This has to stop. This Project, it’s...inhumane. You know I don’t say that word lightly. There is no scientific merit in continuing this disaster. Cut your losses, Renee. He is  _ _ not a viable asset _ _ . Letting him volunteer for this was a mistake in the first place. Keeping him here is dangerous for all of us. I’ve already lost one of my best scientists, I’d appreciate it if you could keep your little experiment from eating the rest of them. This entire study has been a sloppy, ill-conceived disaster from the very start. I want it out of my lab, Renee. I want my name off our research, too. You can claim all the work I did on the Project, for all I care. I don’t want to be associated with this ridiculous mess you’ve made.  _

_ You have until Monday to get it cleaned up. Obviously, ignore the email you just got from upstairs. I’ve made sure nobody will be in the lab from now until Monday morning. If you can’t clean it up by then, you’re on your own. I’m not covering for you anymore. You’re out of control. _

_ Oh, and I’ve been meaning to tell you -- I put in for a transfer, so I’ll be joining the chemical sciences division after the New Year. You may have the lab and all of its contents, but Paquette comes with me. Find yourself a new underling to terrorize. And a new lead scientist. I didn’t sign up for this madness. _

_ It might be my lab, but this is  _ _ not _ _ my facility, and it is YOUR MESS. _

_ -Alexander _

** _P.S._ ** _ I forgot to mention, the containment field is ready. Ms. Paquette tells me it functions perfectly, and from what I’ve seen, she is correct. With Witt’s hologram overlay, it blends in seamlessly with the wall of the cave, just like you wanted. I asked the two of them to install it in the location you mentioned, but we haven't heard back from Witt, so I'll be escorting Ms. Paquette to the quarantine site this evening so she can set it up.  _

_ I have no idea where the hell Witt disappeared to, but if you see him, tell him to come by my office. The quarantine site will be ready tonight by 22:00. This is the  _ _ last _ _ favor you’ll get from me, Blasey. We’re done. You’re out of your goddamned mind. _

Getting up from her desk, Renee crosses the unbearably-white room and peers through the doorway. Natalie’s not at her desk, which isn’t surprising, based on the e-mail. Hopefully she wasn’t injured too badly. 

_ Must not have been, if he’s got her running around outside installing some sort of...hardware. _

Renee turns down a long hallway as she makes her way to the lab. She pauses, looking at the motivational poster on the wall.

_ If you can dream it, you can do it! _

Above the text are three photos -- old ones, early 2020’s at the absolute latest. One shows a young man in his 30’s with long brown hair, tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He has kind eyes, and is smiling with a huge grin as he holds up a trio of Mastiff puppies. Behind him is a little wooden cabin. Well, more of a shack, really. He appeared to have lived in the middle of nowhere. In the background, Renee can make out a large wooden shed of kennels, obviously built for the purpose of housing dogs. 

The next photo is a close-up shot of the three puppies together, looking adorable.

The third photo is almost exactly the same as the one before it -- a close-up of the same three painfully-cute pups. The only difference between this photo and the one before it, is that in this photo, the lights have been turned off, and the puppies are  _ glowing. _ All three of them look just as cute and happy as they do in the photo before, the only difference is the mint-green bioluminescence they’re emanating, which looks almost identical to the glow of the flyers and leviathans in the Shadow dimension.

Below the photos is a caption, typed in a tiny font.

** _Earth, 2025:_ ** _ David Ishee, a dog breeder with no educational background in biology, successfully breeds glowing canines via gene editing -- using a clandestine lab he built by himself, in his garage. _

Renee feels strange. It’s a dream again, she’s aware, but she can’t wake herself up. She also can’t control her mouth or body, apparently. It’s like her brain is just along for the ride, in someone else’s shoes. Another Renee. The same Renee she had dreamed about before, with the mint-green gloves and the white bodysuit with the surgical mask.

She’s not sure where she’s going, but her feet apparently are, as they continue walking her down the bright hallway and carry her into an elevator. For some reason, she pushes the button at the very bottom, the one that says “LL.”

The elevator begins to descend. After descending for about 2 minutes straight, Renee is getting worried. 

_ Lower Level means the basement, surely. How far down does this place go? _

After another stretch of uncomfortable, anxious waiting, the elevator rumbles slightly as it halts at the bottom of the elevator shaft, and the doors slide open. She gasps before she’s even stepped out of it. The way-too-white floor of the hallway is smeared with blood, and it looks fresh.

She jogs down the hall, following the blood to a door at the end of the hall labeled  _ ‘Nox CRISPR Lab.’  _ Two armed guards stand in front of it, and Renee’s heart starts to pound, because that can’t be good. But once they see her approaching, both guards step aside without a word. Pulling a keycard she didn’t know she needed out of a pocket she didn’t know she had, Renee gains entry to the lab.

Blood is _ everywhere. _ All over the floor, the walls, splattered on the  _ ceiling _ \-- Nox was right, it IS a mess, and it is definitely a miracle Natalie survived whatever the fuck had created it.

Renee wants to stand there and survey the damage, maybe dig through some of the blood-spattered files that are lying about the lab, poke around to see what kind of data they're hiding all the way down here.

But the Renee piloting her body has other plans, so she walks further into the lab. Sitting throughout the room are some very expensive looking pieces of equipment that aren’t familiar to her. 

_ This is the room where the giant portal should be...what is all this shit? Where’s the phase tech, and the engineer’s station? Why are there microscopes everywhere? _

_ Oh, right. Bioengineering. _

But when she looks at her left arm, there’s the phase-tech, just like it always is. 

_ How do I have the armband if I’m not running the phasing experiment? _

She doesn’t ponder that question for long, though, because she’s just stepped through a doorway at the back of the lab. Over the doorway are the words,  _ ‘Specimen Observatory.’  _ For some reason, looking at them makes her stomach twist into anxious knots. When she crosses the threshold, she understands why.

Cages. Well, more like cells, really. Many, many cells, all lining the bright walls of the fluorescently-lit room. They’re not very big, and each of them is surrounded on 3 sides by indestructible glass.

Renee knows it’s indestructible glass because she’s been inside one of those cells before, in Singh’s lab. She spent untold hours in a glass prison just like the ones before her now, trapped and alone, with nothing but her screaming Void voices to keep her company. When the man with the cold hands and the syringe gun yanked her out of her cage, she was almost  _ relieved. _ At the time, giving up -- just laying down and dying, letting them kill her -- sounded far,  _ far _ better than a life spent in solitary confinement, all alone except for the screaming in her head and the unpleasant company of the guards tasked with handling her.

Most of the cells in the room are empty. In one there sits an orange flyer, like the ones from Solace. In the cell next to it is another flyer, a glowing one from the Shadow dimension. A few cells down, she sees a strange, inky black mass just sort of...levitating in the middle of one cell. When she approaches, it immediately mimics her body shape perfectly and opens two unbelievably bright, yellow eyes. It’s a Shadow. After looking at her for a moment, it suddenly leaps forward at her, beating on the glass like a gorilla at a zoo, clawing at it, like it wants nothing more than to break through and tear her apart. 

Before she realizes it, her hand is reaching out to touch a control panel on the outside of the cell, flipping the clear plastic cover up. She then presses a button that says  _ “Emergency Sedation” _ and a stream of vapor begins to float down into the cell, dispersing into the cage from a nozzle on the ceiling. A few moments later, the Shadow staggers back from the glass, dropping to its knees, almost like it’s drunk. It sways there on its knees for a moment, and just when Renee expects it to fall forward and face-plant into a deep, medicated sleep, it instead morphs back into the black goo it was initially, then it drops to the ground, splattering all over it like a thrown can of black paint.

_ Jesus, what the fuck? _

Turning a corner, she makes her way through a corridor and into another room lined with cells, all of them empty. 

Except for one. 

The trail of blood on the floor leads to a cell at the very back of the room, and from where she stands, Renee can see that it is occupied by something that appears to be humanoid in shape. Drawing closer, she realizes it’s a familiar face: Park.

No, it’s the vampire. 

He doesn’t look like himself, though. His pretty purple skin is grey, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks thinner, too thin -- his cheeks are hollow and his eyes sunken. He looks  _ sick, _ like he hasn’t been eating, even though his mouth is currently smeared with blood. 

Maybe that’s  _ why _ it’s currently smeared with blood. He looks like he’s starving, or was until quite recently. 

The smears of red extend all down the front of his shirt, which isn’t a shirt at all, she suddenly realizes. It’s a straight jacket.

_ Fuck. Oh god. _

He’s sitting on the floor, leaning up against the back wall of his glass prison. Blood stains that freakishly-white floor, too, both inside and outside of the cage. There’s so much blood she can smell it, and it would be enough to make her gag if she were in control of her own body.

“Congratulations,” Renee says to the vampire, for some unfathomable reason.

His eyes are just as stunningly blue as ever, but when they meet her own, all of her instincts tell her not to get any closer. Her body isn’t listening though, because it belongs to somebody else. In the bright fluorescent light of the lab, she notices the vampire's hair is so black it's almost blue, a slightly different shade from the Park she knows, whose hair is a dark, chocolaty brown. 

Drawing closer to the glass, she can tell from the distant, unfocused look in the creature's eyes that he's been drugged. Still, the look on his face when their eyes meet is so furious it scares her. Suddenly, she wonders if any of the blood staining the walls and floors is his. He looks like he’s been crying.

Renee feels sick. She wishes she could do something other than watch helplessly.

"You're getting your wish, Park. You'll never have to see me again," she hears herself say. "You'll never have to see  _ anyone _ again."

_ What the fuck? _

The vampire says nothing. Possibly because he can’t -- if the drugs in his system are anything like the ones Singh used to subdue her, making intelligible words come out of his mouth in an order that makes sense is a challenge right now.

Renee turns to leave, making her way back down the row of empty glass cells. Just as she reaches the door, something throws itself against the glass of the cell immediately to her right. Evidently not all of the other cells are empty, after all.

Renee jumps back, and would have screamed, but whoever’s body she’s in still has control of it, and they don’t scream. Instead, they lean forward and peer at the demon throwing itself against the glass.

It looks like it’s made out of cooled lava rock, with blackish-blue skin that looks like stone covering it from head to toe. Its eyes and fingers, though, are molten, glowing an orangey-red very similar to the color of Shadow blood. The creature is female in appearance, and it’s not naked, exactly -- everything is adequately covered by a thick layer of stone -- but it’s not exactly wearing clothes, either. It almost looks like it’s covered in body paint, but it’s too detailed, too believable to be makeup. An orange glow peeks through the cracks in its stony skin, like a Shadow’s, but the cracks aren’t leaking that ghostly, ectoplasmic smoke. Like its fingers, the creature’s eyes are glowing bright orange, and they’re dripping tears of magma. Two dark horns protrude from its head. 

Embedded in the glass door of the cell is little holopad displaying the words  _ ‘#716 - Shadow hybrid.’ _

When the shock wears off a little, Renee’s gaze drifts back up to the creature’s face. Her heart stops.

_ Ajay? _

Lifeline looks like she’s become some kind of volcanic demon spawn. She’s beautiful, just like the Ajay in Renee’s own dimension, but everything about her is otherworldly and frankly, terrifying. Worse are the sounds she’s making -- desperate, tortured shrieks that make Renee feel like her eardrums are going to burst. It’s so loud, but she can’t cover her ears,  _ fuck, please make it stop-- _

_ “AHHHHH!” _

Renee jolts up in the bed, woken once again by her own screaming.

“What the  _ fuck?” _ she gasps out, shivering from the cold sweat she’s covered in.

She’s shaking and can feel her face is wet with tears. It’s early, the bedroom is bathed in blue light. When she looks at her clock, she freezes for a moment. It’s not  _ her  _ alarm clock. It’s not  _ her _ bedroom.

Then she remembers she’s at Elliott’s house, and breathes a sigh of relief, flopping back down on the mattress. Her mind is still reeling, however. The vampire had looked so ill, so sickly and pale she wanted to cry. And Ajay...

_ God, what the fuck. What was that? Did--did I do that to them?  _

As much as she wanted to dismiss it as just another bad dream, it felt so real. Too real. The way she had conducted herself in the dream was strange, too. And that e-mail from Nox…

_ Christ, maybe Dr. Reid is right. Maybe I should consider going on medication. _

Just as her heartbeat starts returning to normal, someone knocks on the door.

_ Fuck! _

Seizing her knife from its hiding place under the pillow next to her, she creeps to the door. Beneath it, she can see the shadows of two legs, backlit by the blue nightlight in the hallway. Holding her breath, she reaches out and cracks open the door.

It’s Park. The one from her dimension, this time. She’s not sure if that makes it better or worse.

He takes a large step backwards when he spots the knife, eyes going wide.

“I heard screaming, I--” he stammers, looking about as startled as she feels. “Are you...alright?”

She lowers the knife, feeling stupid. 

_ At least it was Park, not Elliott’s mom. Jesus, Renee. Get your shit together. _

“Um, yeah. I’m fine. I uh...bad dream,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“No, I was already awake.”

“Yeah, sneaking back out of Elliott’s room, I bet,” she says, winking. Park’s eyes go wide again and he looks kind of embarrassed, which is something she’s never seen before. Until now she was pretty sure his only facial expression is the insufferably smug one.

“Oh my god, I was kidding. But you totally were, weren’t you? You were sneaking out of his room!” she whisper-yells, stifling a laugh. “God, you two are a fucking mess.”

_ Ahahaha, fuck. Silva owes me 50 Apex Coins. _

Park won’t even look her in the eye.

“Relax, dude. I’m not gonna tell his mom.”

She’s smiling as she says it, but Park is still staring at the floor, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, not saying anything back, but not leaving, either.

Renee sighs. 

“I’m just messing with you, dude. Uh, are you okay?” 

Park shrugs.

“Do...you wanna come in? I’m not going back to sleep anyway.”  _ Not after that dream. _

She opens the door the rest of the way, stepping aside, unsure what to expect, but he nods and comes inside. When she turns around after shutting the door behind them, Park is leaning against the dresser, looking down at a photo on it.

“Does that...happen often? The dreams.”

“Uh, yeah,” she says, taking a seat on the bed. “Sometimes I see stuff that I’m pretty sure is happening in another dimension, but I never really know. Some of them are...intense.”

He nods, still gazing down at the photo with crossed arms. Renee isn’t sure what exactly is pictured -- she hadn’t bothered to look before collapsing into bed the night before.

There’s an extended, awkward pause. Finally, Park breaks the silence.

“I did not know...about his brothers,” he says quietly, looking glum.

_ Oof. _

“Yeah. Elliott’s been through some shit.”

“Yes.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. Renee almost feels like this might be another dream. The sun hasn’t come up yet, everything is still a bit dark, the sky is only just beginning to turn light blue. It’s strange to be talking to Park instead of arguing with him.

“How’s your neck?”

“Fine,” he says, finally looking up. “Thank you, again.” Then he mumbles something she can’t understand, because of course he does.

“You’re welcome.”  _ I think. _

Suddenly the silence between them is a little awkward again, and Renee reaches out to touch the lamp next to the bed, illuminating the room. When she looks back up at Park, she gasps. He’s absentmindedly scratching his bicep, pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt a little bit, and she catches a glimpse of the angry pink scars streaking down his shoulder.

_ “Shit, _ dude.” She doesn’t mean to say it out loud. It takes him a moment to realize what she’s looking at, but when he does, he looks away, tugging his sleeve back down.

_ They do look like prowler bites. Fuck. _

“Did it hurt?” she asks, immediately feeling like an idiot. 

_ Dumbass. Of course it hurt. _

“It was not a pleasant sensation, no.”

“Sorry.” She kind of feels like a jerk for asking -- it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. Neither does she, really. She just wasn’t expecting the scars to extend that far, or to be so deep and jagged. She’d only gotten through the night she saved him by doing her best not to look at his injuries too much. The memory alone makes her stomach churn. Then she thinks of the vampire in her dream, covered in blood, looking half-alive. 

There's another awkward silence. She flops back onto the bed, covering her face with the inside of her elbow.

“I feel like a fucking alien here. Am I insane for coming on this trip?”

Park huffs out an amused sort of sound. “You might be. But then so am I.”

She smiles. 

_ Park’s not so bad, when he’s not preoccupied with being a fucking idiot. _

“So, Hyeon, huh?” Last time she’d checked, he hadn’t even told Lifeline his first name. Shit,  _ Elliott _ didn’t even know it, if the look on his face when it came out of Park’s mouth earlier was any indication. “Any particular reason you’re registered for the games under the last name Kim?”

Park’s eyes go sort of wide for just a split second, then he looks at the floor. 

“Park is my middle name.”

_ Uh-huh. _

Renee shrugs. “Hey, it’s not my business. I didn’t have a name until two months ago,” she smiles, but he’s still doing the shifty-eyed thing. 

“So, does Elliott know? What really happened to you, I mean. And that I know about...y’know…”  _ The whole being-a-fucking-vampire thing. _

Park shakes his head. 

“No.”

“Is it cool if we keep it that way, for now, at least? This whole season has been so fucked. Just... _ off. _ I just want things to go back to normal. If he doesn’t wanna tell me, I don’t wanna know, y’know?”

“What you choose to tell him is not up to me. That’s between the two of you.”

Renee is grateful the subject doesn't lead to debate. When Park speaks again, it's very quiet.

"Meditation helps."

"What?"

"With the dreams."

“Oh. Well, um, thanks,” now she’s the one with shifty eyes. “Sorry I was kind of a bitch on the way here.”

Park snorts. “I did not notice any deviation from your standard disposition.”

“You’re such an asshole, Park.”

He smiles. 

“So I’ve been told.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Hey, sweetheart,” Elliott feels a gentle hand on his back. “Happy Thanksgiving, sunshine. How’s my handsome boy?”

Elliott just sort of groans, pulling the covers over his head. 

“He’s...conscious.” And very,  _ very _ sore.

_ Park is a helluva workout. _

The kind of workout that makes Elliott want to hit the gym every day. Multiple times.

His mom laughs, rubbing his shoulder through the comforter. 

“I like him,” she says, “Your new friend. Hyeon.”

_ Yeah. I like him, too. Way too fucking much. So much I’m pretty sure it now qualifies as love. _

“So I discovered this morning that the oven is broken," she continues, "And I thought I was going to have to use the damn replicator for Thanksgiving dinner. But you know me, couldn’t resist poking around inside a little bit first. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong with the thing. Then he pops out of nowhere, pokes his head in, diagnoses it in under a minute. He’s down there fixing it with Pathfinder right now.” 

Elliott’s still under the covers, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, he does that,” Elliott mumbles, “the whole  _ popping-out-of-nowhere-and-fixing-shit _ thing.”

“Well, he sounds like a keeper.”

_ “Mom,” _ Elliott groans when his mother pulls the covers off his head, nearly blinding him with the bright sunlight streaming into the room. 

“Stoooooop, oh my god. Nobody is  _ keeping _ anybody, it’s not like that. We’re...we’re  _ co-workers _ , it’s not...like that.” 

It is  _ so _ totally like that.

“Alright, alright,” Evenlyn says with a grin, her palms raised defensively. “I just calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em, Elliott. And from what I see, there’s at least one man in this house right now who seems to be very much in love. Not counting the one in this bed.”

She winks, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Elliott’s head, which is now all that peeks out from under the comforter.

“Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you don’t sleep all day. Dinner’s at 6. You or your friends need anything, you let me know, mmkay?”

“Mmkay, Mom.”

\--

An hour later, once Elliott has thrown his bedding in the laundry, replaced it with clean sheets (sorry, Mom!), and showered off any remaining traces of the previous night’s activities, he steps into a dark pair of jeans and pulls a mustard-colored sweater out of his suitcase. Turtlenecks aren’t exactly his style, but he doesn’t have a lot of options, because one side of his throat is covered in scars that, while fully-healed, are still noticeable and would definitely freak his mom out.  _ Both  _ sides of his throat are covered in bitemarks and hickies that extend from just under his jaw to down below his collarbones. There are bruises on his hips from Park’s firm grip. Elliott’s cock twitches when he looks in the mirror and notices them. 

_ Fuck yes. God, why do I love that so much?  _

Then he remembers what Park had groaned into Elliott’s neck the night before, just before spilling into him. He remembers him saying he thinks about Elliott every day, thinks about kissing him and fucking him and making Elliott  ** _his._ ** Elliott’s fairly certain he’s never wanted anything in the world as much as he wants to be Park’s. Just belong to him. Be his person. His partner. His possession. His property.

Being his boyfriend works, too.

Once he’s wasted fifteen minutes fucking with his hair in the mirror, he figures it’s time to go downstairs and check on his friends, try to make sure his mom hasn’t disassembled Pathfinder for reverse-engineering purposes, or something. And he needs to check on his boyfriend.

_ Boyfriend. _

Elliott’s heart does a little flip.

\--

When he gets downstairs, Pathfinder and Park are in the kitchen. Pathfinder is wearing an apron that has ‘KISS THE COOK’ printed across the chest, as he pouring a gooey, fruity filling into a pie pan. Elliott doesn’t crave food anymore, but it still smells good, and there’s a delicious, meaty scent wafting out of the kitchen and into his nostrils that smells  _ amazing. _

When he enters the kitchen, Park is at the counter, slicing green onions and looking far too handsome for his own good. He’s wearing the stupid black pants, but this pair is missing all the extra belts and straps and pockets. The mysterious hacker has a kitchen towel over his shoulder, and when he removes it to wipe down a counter, Elliott sees that he’s wearing a crisp black button-up shirt, tucked into those sexy fucking pants. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and the long sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. When he returns to slicing onions, Elliott can see the muscles and tendons in his forearms as they flex beneath his half-human skin. 

Quite suddenly, Elliott is overcome with the urge to crawl to Park on his knees and  _ beg _ him to let Elliott suck him off. He’s not sure what it is, exactly, but something about that outfit just  _ wrecks _ him, makes him want to submit. Makes him want to spend the rest of the day bent over Park’s lap with those delicious cybernetic hands slapping his ass until the tears fall.

_ Jesus, Witt. Get ahold of yourself. He’s just wearing clothes. It’s a thing people do. Stop staring. _

Elliott continues staring until he gets caught, and those gorgeous dark eyes meet his own. Hyeon grins, and Elliott blushes.

“What--uh, what’re you guys making?”

“Pie!” Pathfinder says cheerfully. “It was going to be pumpkin, but they appear to be hard to come by on this planet.” His chest display shifts from his usual yellow smiley face to an emoji crying a fountain of tears. "Don’t worry, friend! I found a fruit that seems to be halfway between a cherry and a peach, so I'm experimenting with it!"

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Pathfinder! Pumpkin pie kind of sucks anyway, just sayin’.” Elliott makes his way over to the island counter where Park is now chopping up a carrot. “And what’s on the menu tonight, Chef Park?”

Park gives him a devious smirk and says, very quietly, “Blood.” Then he winks, and Elliott flushes red.

“Seriously, whatcha makin’?” Elliott asks, peering across the countertop at Park’s workspace.

_ “Galbijjim,” _ Park says, tossing some chopped carrot into the instant pot in front of him on the counter. “Braised short ribs. A common Korean Thanksgiving dish.”

“Wait, Koreans celebrate Thanksgiving?” As far as Elliott was aware, Thanksgiving was a holiday invented by dumb white people a zillion years ago so that future dumb white people could pretend the pilgrims were BFFs with the Native Americans, when in reality, they were the source of endless abuses and suffering beyond words.

...Also, it was an American holiday, so Elliott was kind of confused where Korea entered the picture.

“In a way, yes. It’s called  _ Chuseok, _ ‘Autumn Eve.’ It’s a three day harvest festival in October with a similar sentiment -- give thanks, visit family, eat too much food.” Park looks up at him, smiling, then returns his attention to the cutting board.

“Huh. You learn somethin’ new every day,” Elliott muses. “Hey, anybody seen Renee? And my mom?”

“They are upstairs,” Park says. “Ren-- _ Wraith _ was having trouble deciding on an outfit, and your mother offered to help.”

“Oh  _ god,” _ Elliott groans. “And how long ago was this, exactly?”

“34 minutes and 28.43 seconds ago,” Pathfinder replies.

“Great,” Elliott sighs, pulling out his phone. “Just great.”

He opens the texting app, typing a message to Renee.

_ Let me know if you need me to come up there and rescue you. She means well, but my mom can be a little...intense. I’m happy to provide a distraction if you need to make an escape, lol.  _

Elliott waits a few moments, but there’s no reply, so he puts his phone away. When he looks up, Park isn’t in the kitchen anymore.

“Hey Path, where’d Crypto go?”

Pathfinder turned to look at him. “I am not sure where he is now, friend. But he went up the stairs 2 minutes and 18.04 seconds ago.”

“Uhh, thanks buddy,” Elliott replies, heading for the staircase.

“Anytime, friend!”

\--

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Elliott hears giggling coming from Eddy’s old room, which is where Renee is staying. He breathes a sigh of relief. 

_ Well, sounds like she hasn’t locked herself in the bathroom or anything. Hopefully mom is containing herself. _

Even weirder than the giggling, though, is the strange voice that’s coming from Mark’s bedroom, where Park sleeps (or is pretending to sleep, anyway). The door is open, but Elliott can’t see inside from where he’s standing, so he creeps slowly forward. It almost sounds like someone is talking to a baby or a young child, but it’s so soft, he can’t quite make out the words. Drawing closer, he realizes why -- Park is speaking Korean.

_ Maybe he’s on the phone. Called somebody to tell them happy Thanksgiving or something. _

Peering into the room, Elliott is met with a sight so adorable, he barely resists the urge to let out a girlish squeal of delight: Park is sitting on the bed, petting the family cat, Felix, and talking to him. In Korean. Felix is purring and rubbing all over him, and Park speaks in a lighthearted, lilting tone Elliott’s never heard from him before. It’s the cutest thing Elliott has ever seen.

_ I'm gonna die. It's so precious. My heart! _

Elliott can’t help but giggle, and when he does, Park finally looks up, noticing his presence.

“I see you’ve met Felix,” Elliott says with a grin, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes,” Park replies, still stroking those odd hands of his through Felix’s fur. “I discovered him asleep on my laptop. I believe we have become friends. I was just telling him what a handsome boy he is.”

Park is stroking the tabby cat’s furry belly as he says it, but he’s got his eyes locked on Elliott. Something about the look Park is giving him makes Elliott shiver. 

“You’re a handsome boy too, Elliott,” Park says, abandoning his new friend in favor of getting right up in Elliott’s personal space. 

He reaches out to stroke Elliott’s cheek, and the trickster can’t help but lean into that smooth, synthetic palm. Still cupping his jaw, Park thumbs Elliott’s lower lip for just a moment, then he’s pushing Elliott up against the open door behind him and dragging him into a kiss. Elliott lets out a soft little moan and Park swallows it down, sliding one of those devious hands up the inside of Elliott’s thigh. Park finally pulls back from his lips after a moment, but then he leans forward, his other hand coming up to grip Elliott’s jaw tightly as he presses a soft kiss against the trickster’s cheek.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Elliott,” Park groans in his ear, that wicked hand on his thigh coming up to grip Elliott’s rapidly-hardening cock through his jeans and squeezing.

“I have an idea of what I’d  _ like _ to do to you,” Elliott grunts, gasping at the pressure.

Releasing him, Park rolls his hips forward, letting Elliott feel how hard he is.

_ “This _ is what you do to me,” Park growls, hot breath puffing against Elliott’s ear.

“Fuck,” Elliott sighs, thrusting his own hips forward now and already hard as a fucking rock.

“Later,” Park says, pulling back with a devious smirk. “Dinner first, then dessert.”

And then Park just...leaves him there, leaning against the door and gasping, cock straining against his jeans so hard that it actually hurts.

“I’ve always been a dessert first kinda guy,” Elliott calls down the hall after him, willing his blood to begin circulating in the northern hemisphere of his body again.

\--

**5:45PM Renee:** Your mom IS intense. Intensely AWESOME.

**5:45PM Renee:** She says set the table. We’ll be down in a minute.

**5:46PM Elliott: ** Jesus Christ, I was about to send Path on a rescue mission.

**5:46PM Elliott:** WTF were you guys doing up there for so long??

**5:48PM Renee: ** You’ll see. 

**5:49PM Renee: ** Don’t laugh :P

The table was already set, thanks to Pathfinder. Elliott wasn’t sure what to make of Renee’s messages, so he elbowed Park, who was sitting next to him at the table, and showed him her messages. Park shrugged.

A few minutes later, Evenlyn and Renee appeared at the foot of the stairs, and when Elliott looked up, his mouth popped open a little bit.

Renee wore a thin black sweater that bared her shoulders, mauve leggings, and a pair of black leather heels that were definitely his mom’s. Her hair was done up in a pretty french braid that hung over her right shoulder, and she appeared to be wearing a sort of dusty rose colored lipstick. Maybe some blush? Elliott wasn’t quite sure. What he was sure of, though, was that she looked absolutely  _ stunning. _

“Holy  _ shit,” _ came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

_ “Elliott!” _

“Sorry, Mom! I’ve never seen her in, like, people-clothes before, okay? Renee, you look amazing! I mean, you always look amazing, b-but you look, like, extra amazing--you know what? I’m gonna stop talking.”

“Quitting while you’re ahead, huh?” Renee rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “So unlike you, Elliott.”

Park snorted next to him. When Elliott glanced at him, he noticed he was blushing.

Pathfinder poked his head out of the kitchen. “You look great, friend!”

“Thanks, guys,” Renee said, blushing a little bit herself. “And thank you, Evenlyn.”

“My pleasure! You should keep those shoes. They suit you.”

“Oh, are you sure? I--”

“Keep ‘em, kid. I’m getting too old for a heel that high anyway,” Evenlyn interrupted, smiling.

“Thank you, Evenlyn,” Renee said, looking rather bashful.

“Thank  _ you!” _ his mother replied. “I never had a daughter, and Elliott won’t let me dress him up anymore, so--”

“That is  _ patently _ false, Mom,” Elliott groaned, rolling his eyes. “Weren’t you just telling me something about a Nutcracker costume I’m apparently wearing next month?”

“Hush, you! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Renee takes a seat across from him at the table, beaming, and Elliott decides that despite whatever awkwardness came before this moment, or might come after it...having everyone here for Thanksgiving was worth it, just for this moment.

“Okay friends, are we ready to eat?” Pathfinder asks, appearing in the doorway again. The little screen embedded in his chest shifting to display a question mark.

“I think so,” Evenlyn says, following the robot back into the kitchen.

“Can he actually...eat?” Park asks, looking a little confused.

Elliott and Renee both burst out laughing. Park glares. 

“No, no,” Renee giggles.”It’s a valid question, you haven’t been here long. But no, sadly he cannot eat. I’ve met some androids who can, though, so who knows. Maybe he’ll get to taste pork chops one day. The technology is there!”

Elliott grins.

“So, what happened to Natalie tagging along?” Renee asks him. “I thought you said something about Bloodhound coming, too.”

“Well, y’see, apparently Nat is staying with -- I swear to god I am not making this up -- fucking  _ Caustic.” _

Renee’s eyes bug out.  _ “What?” _

_ “Yeaaaah. _ It’s...it’s pretty weird”

“I know I've only known her for a couple of months, but I swear to god, if they're fucking -- if he touches a single hair on her adorable little head -- I'm going to kill everyone on that ship, and then myself,” Renee vows, visibly shuddering.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much been everyone’s reaction to that so far,” Elliott replies, cringing. “Anyway, Bloodhound, you know them. Not big on details. Just said they got an unexpected invite somewhere else.” He shrugged.

“I saw them in the shuttle bay yesterday,” Park says, not looking up from his phone. “They were getting picked up by an android with whom they shared an...extended hug.” 

“No way!” Elliott shouts a little louder than he means to. Lowering his voice he, asks, “Did you get a look at the ‘droid? Was it a girl or a boy?”

“I am not sure--”

“Well, _ guess!” _

“Are you asking me to assume its gender?” Park asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god,” Elliott rolls his eyes. “Nevermind.”

“It appeared to be male.”

_ Probably just a coincidence, right? _ Elliott thinks, remembering the redhead with the android in Min’s bar.

“Well, good for them! That’s cute,” Renee muses. For a moment, she falls silent, peering over her shoulder.

Then she continues, lowering her voice, “D’you think Path can, like...y’know…”

“What, can he fuck?” Elliott asks bluntly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Park pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, like listening to their conversation is aging him by the minute.

_ “Shhh!” _ Renee hisses, giggling.

Elliott leans in, smirking mischievously and whispering, “Apparently he has some sort of...attachment.”

Next to him, Park chokes into his glass of wine.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re kidding,” Renee is positively cackling. 

“I’m serious! Silva says it  _ vibrates,” _ Elliott says with a grin. Park kicks him under the table.

“Oh my god, he’d know,” Renee snorts. There’s a brief pause, and she sighs, shaking her head. 

Elliott is trying very hard not to stare at her exposed throat, but he’s starting to get kind of hungry...and the kind of food he’s craving isn’t the kind of food currently sitting in his mother’s kitchen, unfortunately.. That goddamn sweater isn’t helping, either. All he’s been able to think about since she entered the room is licking her from shoulder to earlobe and burying his fangs in the side of that elegant neck.

_ Fuck, why would you do this to me, Mom? She looks delicious enough when she’s not showing skin, this is just torture. _

“Wow, you guys. We’re living in a world where MRVN’s can fuck but they can't eat,” Renee giggles. “What a time to be alive.” 

Park is chuckling too, now, shaking his head.

  
  


\--

  
  


“Ohmygod, this stuff is delicious. You made this? Like, from scratch?” Renee is gaping at him.

Park nods. “Yes.”

“You gotta program this into the replicator on the ship, it’s the bomb.” 

Receiving compliments makes Park uncomfortable. Everything about this entire trip makes him uncomfortable, because it means people are paying attention to him, which is something he’s spent years training himself to avoid at all costs. It was easy on the ship -- well, easier -- where a few one-word answers and a large helping of the facial expression Renee had dubbed ‘Resting Dick Face’ were usually enough to get him out of having to interact with other people. But this wasn’t the ship, this was Elliott’s house, and being his usual, standoffish self would make Elliott sad, and that simply would not do.

Also, despite her dressing up like a normal person, Park was pretty sure Renee had zero qualms about murdering him at the dinner table, if she saw fit to do so. He had no doubt that vicious little knife was hidden somewhere on her person, so he was on his best behavior.

“It’s already programmed into the replicator,” he replies, trying not to sound like a smartass, which is difficult, because he is one.

“Sweet,” Renee smiles at him, then looks over at Pathfinder, who is carving the turkey.

It’s been a strange day, and Park feels strange, too. His body feels oddly light, almost weightless, and he’s pretty sure it’s because he’s missing his heavy coat and the familiar weight of his backpack and Jee strapped to him. It could also be the wine, as he’s on his 3rd glass already, still waiting for glass number one to calm his nerves. But the odd, floaty, not-entirely-unpleasant feeling is most probably due to the fact that he is  _ completely _ out of his element here. He knows Renee and Pathfinder have no memories, and thus no real relatives to speak of -- it’s not like Park’s the only person there who isn’t part of the Witt family. But the legends have their own little family on the dropship, too, and Park is only just beginning to realize what he’s been missing, isolating himself.

The way Renee grins at Pathfinder and actually gives him a high five when he brings out the pie he made makes his heart ache for some stupid reason. The way Elliott’s mom keeps shooting him these knowing looks and the occasional conspiratory wink makes his heart pound like the goddamned Syndicate is knocking on the door. The way Elliott looks in that  _ ridiculous _ turtleneck -- and the reason he’s wearing it in the first place -- makes Park want to tear it off him and leave a few more bitemarks, just in case he missed a spot. The way Renee looks...period, just the way she looks today, makes him feel like, like--

_ Like a fucking idiot. Which you are. Stop staring, Park. For fuck’s sake. _

He kind of can’t, though, hence the wine-guzzling. When Elliott’s glass is empty, Park snatches it up and carries it into the kitchen, because good boyfriends get refills for their partner, right? Right. But also because good boyfriends don’t stare at said partner’s best friend, drooling like an idiot who is seeing a human female for the first time ever, and he can't seem to stop doing just that, so he needs a distraction.

_ She’s so pretty...she’s so...god, shut UP. Stop it!  _

Park sighs, uncorking the bottle of merlot and trying not to think about the day she’d popped into his room while he was nearly-naked, choking him out and digging her knife into his chest. It had been absolutely terrifying, but that hadn’t stopped him from immediately getting a hard-on under that towel, which she obviously hadn’t seen -- thank  _ fuck _ \-- because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t still be breathing right now if she had noticed.

_ Why can’t I get her out of my head today? Ugh. _

It’s the sweater, he’s pretty sure. He’s never seen her shoulders bare like this before. He’d seen her in a tank top in her room on the ship, which was basically the same thing, but somehow, totally different. Her hair had been down, then, covering her neck and shoulders. Now it’s done up in a pretty french braid that hangs over one of her bare shoulders, and the dark sweater she’s wrapped in just makes her ghostly complexion stand out even more. He’s relieved to note that no part of that creamy, exposed skin seems to be marred by scars or bite wounds, so that’s a relief, as far as the whole  _ ’Renee-is-a-vampire’ _ theory goes. 

_ She could still be one, though. Maybe it bit her somewhere else… _

Now he’s thinking about putting some bite marks of his own on those elegant, bare shoulders, sucking some marks into that pretty neck to match the ones he’d given Elliott the night before. He’s wondering what Elliott would look like, sinking those gorgeous fangs into her thigh and sucking her down the same way he feeds from Park. 

_ No no no, not happening--ever--for  _ _ way _ _ too many reasons to count, starting with the fact that if she's not one already, that will definitely turn her into a bloodsucker, too. _

...Would she moan the way he had, when Elliott first bit him (and has every time since…)? And  _ fuck, _ Elliott -- would he be as desperate and needy at the taste of her as he’d been when he tasted a hint of her mixed in Park’s blood? The thought of watching Elliott pin her hips to the bed, sucking at the inside of one of her thighs and licking what’s between them while he jerks himself off and slips the fingers of his other hand inside her is almost enough to--

Park jumps when he feels a hand gently brush across his shoulders, then down his back.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Renee is smiling, and Park is pretty sure the increasing pinkness of her cheeks is due to the alcohol, not makeup. But regardless, it’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.

“You uh, had some cat hair on you,” she says, looking embarrassed and glancing at the wine bottle. 

Park nods, because the part of his brain that handles verbal processing appears to be experiencing some technical difficulties. He’d come into the kitchen in the first place to  _ escape _ her annoyingly radiant beauty, but there it was, right in his face again.

_ Dammit. _

Park notices she’s holding her own glass, which is empty -- probably waiting for him to be done refilling Elliott’s so she can fill her own. Instead of handing her the bottle, Park reaches out and takes the empty glass from her hands. There’s a slightly awkward silence as he pours her wine, but she’s smiling at him when he goes to hand the glass back to her.

“Thank you,” she says, looking a little...embarrassed, maybe? Park can’t be sure. She’s impossible to read.

_ “Cheon maneh,” _ he replies, nodding politely. 

Renee takes the glass, but doesn’t move to head back to the dining room. Instead, she takes a sip and gazes in the direction of the dinner table, smiling.

“Hey,” she says, her tone suddenly changing. “You’re--you’re doing awesome in there, just so you know. You’ve been doing awesome since we got here. Elliott’s mom totally loves you. Like, she  _ could not _ shut up about you while she was doing my makeup.  _ ‘Oh he’s so handsome, he’s so polite, he’s so smart, can you believe he fixed my oven?’ _ blah, blah, blah,” Renee giggles, imitating Evenlyn’s voice.

“And hey, you’ve impressed me, too -- not that my opinion matters, I just--” she sighs. “Sorry, I’m a little tipsy. What I’m trying to say is, the way Elliott looks when you’re around...his face lights up like it got hit with a charge rifle,” she pauses, seeing Park’s expression. 

“Okay, yeah, bad analogy,” she continues, laughing. “What I mean is -- you make Elliott happy, Park. You really do. And you’re good at it, too. And I think everyone who cares about him -- Evenlyn and I included -- can see that. Shit, even the  _ cat _ can see that.” 

She gestures to Felix, who has followed Park around all day, and is currently weaving between his legs, getting fur all over the bottom of his pants.

“So, I’m sorry I misjudged you,” she says, looking a little guilty. “Sorry for threatening you, uh, and for not knocking first, and for um, poking you with my knife,” she says, looking quite guilty.

_ Don’t be sorry, _ thinks a distant, idiotic part of him.

“And I’m sorry for being a jerk. You’re an alright guy, Park--oh, that reminds me, uh, wh-what do you want me to call you? You have too many names, dude. I’m starting to lose track.”

_ Shit, me too. _

“Is it cool if I call you Hyeon, or should I stick to Park, or like--”

“Depends,” Park replies, unable to keep from smirking a little. “Is it cool if I call you Renee?”

Wraith rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. “Oh my god,  _ fine, _ whatever. You can call me Renee.”

“Then you may call me whatever you wish. Preferably not ‘asshole,’ though.”

Renee giggles again, and her cheeks are even pinker now, so it’s definitely the alcohol. Park is starting to feel those first two glasses himself, which is the only conceivable explanation for what comes out of his mouth next.

“You look lovely tonight, Renee.”  _ And always, but especially right now. _

The rest of her face flushes to match her pink cheeks.

“Th-thanks, you don’t clean up too bad either, Park,” she replies, unable to look at him as she says it. “And thanks for the drink.” She takes another sip, then nods towards the dining room. 

“You coming back? I think Elliott’s worried you stole his glass so you could drink the rest of the wine yourself.” 

Park lets out a nervous laugh.

“Come on, you goofy idiot,” she snatches the wine out of his hand, sitting it back on the counter. “You’ve faced scarier things than a Witt family Thanksgiving, I think you’ll survive a few more hours.”

Park laughs again -- an actual, genuine laugh, this time -- and follows her back into the dining room.

\--

It’s definitely the alcohol. 100%. 

Well, and the sweater. 

_ Damn that sweater. _

...It’s the shoes, too, though. Park’s never been much of a foot guy, but it’s less about the feet and more about seeing parts of her he’s never seen, seeing her in ways he’s never seen her before. Something about those black, strappy, open-toed heels and seeing her pale, petite feet in them, toes peeking out the front, giving a glimpse of purple nail polish -- something about it just sticks in Park’s brain. When she stands or sits with her feet close together, the leather straps create the illusion that her feet are _ bound  _ together, and that’s a thought Tae Joon is desperately trying to scrub from his brain as they retake their seats at the table.

_ What the fuck is wrong with you, you degenerate creep? STOP. IT. _

If it’s not the sweater, or the alcohol, or the shoes, then it’s  _ definitely _ Elliott’s fault. Absolutely, no question. He’s the one who told Park they kissed, and put the fucking irresistible mental image of her moaning in Elliott’s lap in his head, a thought he  _ still _ hadn’t managed to evict from his brain yet. Elliott’s also at fault because he’s the one who licked at the blood on Park’s thigh and started rubbing himself off, then told Park he tasted like Renee and fucking  _ moaned. _ Elliott’s the one who sucked his cock and said filthy things about  _ her _ pretty pink lips wrapped around it and-- _ NO. NOT RIGHT NOW. NOT EVER. FOR FUCK’S SAKE. WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU? _

Park hands Elliott his refilled glass of wine, taking his place beside him and hoping his face doesn’t look as red as Renee’s. From where he’s sitting, he can see Felix is now pawing at the strings of Pathfinder’s red & white polka-dot apron as the robot carves the Turkey. 

“Sorry, little friend,” says the ever-polite robot. “I’m afraid this isn’t meant for you!”

Felix meows loudly.

“Elliott, honey, d’you mind turning Felix off while we eat?” 

_ Turning the cat...off? _

“Sure thing,” Elliott replies, glancing around the room “Where’s his emitter?”

“Behind you, darling. On the credenza.”

Park watches Elliott hop up, resting a knee on the seat of his dining chair as he leans over the back of it and reaches out to press a button on a little glass pyramid, which stops glowing blue the moment he does.

Felix vanishes into thin air.

_ Holy shit. The cat’s a fucking hologram?! _

He looks down at his shirt. All of the cat hair is gone, like it was never even there.

_ Holy shit. The cat’s a fucking hologram. _

_ Huh. Fascinating. _

“Thank you, dear,” Evelyn smiles at Elliott before turning to face the rest of them. “Sorry, he gets a little antsy when we eat before he’s had his dinner.”

_ The hologram EATS? _

Park adds  _ ‘holographic cat that eats’ _ to the quickly-growing list of intriguing things he absolutely  _ must _ ask Evenlyn about before they leave Solace. She’s genius-tier smart -- and Park would know, because so is he.

Being here makes Park miss his family, the only one he’s ever really known -- Mila and Mystik. Nothing will ever replace what he’s lost. Nothing will ever fill the hole in his heart. Nothing will fix what’s been broken. 

But for some reason, being a part of this little cut-and-paste family of misfits, freaks, and beautiful idiots makes things just a teeny, tiny bit better. It makes the fucking nightmare he’s been living since his life fell apart feel slightly less terrifying, and relieves the weight of a few of the hundreds of secrets that are always weighing him down

And that’s more than enough to be thankful for.

  
  


\------

  
  


Renee looks up from her ebook and snorts.

They finished eating about half an hour ago, and now Park’s knocked the fuck out on the Witt family couch with Felix -- who has been turned back on, and had his dinner, too -- curled up on his chest. Renee is praying the wine is what made him so sleepy, because if it is, then there’s a chance he won’t remember what a  _ fucking weirdo _ she’s been all night. 

The green AR display is still projecting from Park’s optical implant, even with his eyes closed, like he fell asleep while using it. He probably did -- knowing him, he was just petting that cat so he’d have a chance to scan the shit out of it with his weird robot fingers. Park is the kind of guy who clearly makes an effort not to seem too interested in anything or anyone, but it’s pretty obvious he finds Evelyn’s holograms absolutely  _ fascinating. _ Renee does, too, if she’s being honest. Perhaps she’s just a little more accustomed to their presence.

She’s curled up in a large leather chair, gazing out the huge panes of shatter-resistant glass that serve as both the walls and windows of the living room, separating it from the world outside. It’s strange, all of this. Being here. Looking at Solace from inside a cozy home, instead of up close and personal, while covered in its orangey dirt. Wearing people clothes, instead of her bodysuit. Watching Park sleep, instead of shooting at him.

She chuckles to herself a little bit when she hears Evelyn murmur something she can’t quite make out, and Elliott whisper-yells, “Mom,  _ shhhhh! _ He’s right there!”

The two of them are still at the dining room table, though the plates have been cleared away, replaced by several large sheets of paper and a holopad. Evelyn sits in front of it all, pointing to different papers and occasionally typing something into the holopad, wearing a pair of glasses that Renee is pretty sure she wasn’t wearing earlier. Elliott stands behind her, leaning on the back of her chair and stroking his beard.

“No way, that one shows  _ way _ too much skin,” Elliott balks.

Evelyn laughs. “Did I really just hear those words come out of  _ your _ mouth in that order? You feeling alright, sweetheart?”

Renee snorts.

“Mom, Talos is cold as fuck! Also, having your skin exposed kind of sucks when people are shooting at it.”

“I know, I know,” Evelyn grins, setting the paper in her hand aside. “That one was mostly just for fun, anyway. It’s your event, you get the final say. I’m just so excited! Oooh,  _ this _ is the one I wanted to show you, it’s...I don’t know, what do you think?”

Elliott squints, leaning further over Evelyn’s shoulder. 

“I know we had our hearts set on Sexy Santa, but it appears a few of your other team mates beat us to it.”

“Sorry, friends!” Pathfinder says, poking his head out of the kitchen.

“It’s quite alright, Pathfinder! I’m sure you’ll make an excellent Santa Claus,” Evelyn replies cheerfully.

“I think...I think this is it, Mom. This is the one!” Elliott exclaims, beginning to hum a familiar tune that Renee can’t quite place. It’s definitely Christmas music, though.

Renee pulls out her phone and opens the messaging app.

**9:14PM Renee:** Hey, it’s been a little over a week. Am I good to go? 

**9:17PM Gasshole:** Most likely. Though I cannot be certain without observing the results.

**9:17PM Renee:** Ugh, fine. Gimme a sec.

She waited a few moments and then slipped away to the bedroom she’d been sleeping in. Once the photo had been taken and the little whirring device was back in its box in her backpack, she sent the photograph to the mad scientist.

**9:32PM Renee: ** Here. What do you think?

**9:33PM Gasshole: ** Oh yes, you’re ready. 

**9:33PM Renee: ** OK. Thanks for your help with all of this. And your...discretion. 

**9:34PM Renee:** Tell Natalie Happy Thanksgiving for us.

**9:34PM Gasshole:** I’ve noted your appreciation. Ms. Paquette wishes you a pleasant holiday as well.

_ God, that is so fucking weird. _

Just barely resisting the urge to send him a threat for good measure, Renee returns to the living room, taking a seat in the big leather chair again. Pathfinder has joined them now, having finished taking care of the dishes. Elliott and Evelyn seem to have decided on whatever ridiculous costume Elliott is wearing in the ring next. When Renee flops into the chair, Park jumps, waking up from his little wine nap and looking embarrassed. Which is kind of cute.

_ No it isn’t. Ew. _

Park’s not-cuteness can’t distract her for long, because Renee finds herself blinking away tears when Evelyn stands up from the table a few minutes later, turning to face them and thank all of them for coming, and saying how grateful she is that she didn’t have to spend the holiday alone. 

Renee doesn’t often feel like she has a lot to be thankful for, but tonight, she does. She’s thankful for her friends. She’s thankful for the little pseudo-family they’ve all formed, coming together for the holiday. But mostly -- like Evelyn -- she’s grateful she’s not spending it alone. 

That’s not what’s got her tearing up, though. What’s making her all misty-eyed is looking at Park (who is now standing at the dining table, looking at something Elliott’s showing him), and knowing there’s a version of him that is spending the holiday -- and  _ every _ day -- all alone.

Well, and the wine. The wine probably isn’t helping.

\--

Once she’s wished Evelyn and Pathfinder goodnight, and Elliott’s pulled her into a hug that probably lingered a little too long  _ (bite me, Park), _ she heads up the stairs and flops onto the bed, feeling distinctly...something.

Drunk, for one thing, but only a little bit. Happy, but in a sad way, like her heart is too full of feelings, and the ones that don’t fit are threatening to spill from her eyes and run down her cheeks.

Eventually, she starts to doze off, still in her clothes and makeup. But just as she’s drifting into sweet, merciful unconsciousness, a loud thunk on the wall to her left jolts her out of it.

She’s in a house full of people (well, and a robot...and a holocat), there’s bound to be some noises here and there, but the room to her left is the room Park’s staying in, so it’s thus far been silent, since he spends most of his evenings in Elliott’s room doing...well, she doesn’t really want to think about it.

She can’t really avoid thinking about it, though, because now it’s happening in the room right next to hers.

There’s another loud thump on the wall, immediately followed by a muffled  _ “Fuck, baby!” _ and it’s  _ definitely  _ Elliott.

_ Oh for FUCK’S SAKE. Are you serious? _

She hears Park’s deep voice murmur something, but it’s soft, and she can’t make out what it is,  _ thank god. _

There’s another absurdly loud racket immediately to her left.

_ Are they fucking against the wall? Jesus Christ _ .

She briefly considers banging her fist against it and telling them to get a fucking room, but...technically they  _ have _ gotten a room. The problem is it’s the room right next to hers.

They’re not slowing down, either. 

Elliott’s sobbing, “Please, oh my god, fuck, fuck,  _ FUCK--!” _

_ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

“Is this how you want it, Elliott?” she hears Park growl. “Is this how you want me to  _ fuck _ you?”

_ Oh my god. _

“Yes, Daddy,  _ please!” _

_ Oh my GOD. _

Park groans something in his native tongue that sounds absolutely  _ filthy, _ and whatever piece of furniture is slamming into the wall picks up the pace. Then it suddenly stops, and Renee hears Crypto moan Elliott’s name so lewdly that she actually claps a hand over her  _ own _ mouth.

_ Jesus fucking Christ, dude! _

Before it can get any worse, she snatches her armband off of the nightstand and phases into the Void, where she pauses for a moment, gasping because she’s out of breath for some reason. She opens a portal to the Shadow world...then closes it, instead warping back into the Witt’s kitchen, where she snatches the bottle of Merlot that sits on the counter, still mostly full. Wine in hand, she snaps back into the Void.

  
  


\--

  
  


"Fuck, please! Please let me cum, baby, I c-c-can't-- _ fuck! _ \--take it anymore,  _ mmmngh!” _ Elliott wails, so close to cumming that he can't quite control the volume of his voice.

Park has him bent over the dresser of his brother's bedroom, arm twisted behind him like the very first time Parked touched him, the very first day of the season. Park had felt guilty for it then, but he's being careful this time, and this time it's intentional, and  _ both _ arms are twisted behind Elliott's back, pinned together in one of Park's hands. The other hand rests on Elliott's back, pressing his chest down onto the dresser and occasionally moving to stroke through that pretty, curly hair as Park fucks him ruthlessly against it the metal surface of the dresser.

"Please please please please, fuck, I'm g-gonna-- _ agh, _ pl-e-ea-a-se!" sobs the trickster, every muscle in his body tensing up as he just barely stops himself from cumming.

Park chuckles darkly. 

"Shhhh,  _ jagi, _ you're going to wake up the whole house moaning like that."

Elliott whimpers, squirming in Park's arms.

Park knows they should be quieter, knows they shouldn't even be doing this in here in the first place, but it's happening anyway. Maybe it's the wine, or how fucking pretty Renee looked at dinner, or that  _ very _ affectionate hug Elliott gave her earlier, but right now Park doesn't care if she hears them. Right now, part of him  _ wants _ her to hear them, which is  _ sick, _ but he's trying to stave off the guilt and self-flagellation until  _ after _ cums.

"Baby  _ please!" _ Elliott cries again, entire body shuddering as he desperately tries to keep himself together.

Park has edged him so many times they've both lost count, but Elliott's been  _ so _ good for him, obeyed his every command, and looked so goddamn beautiful doing it that now all Park wants is to watch him come apart. There's a mirror attached to the dresser he's bent Elliott over, and it slams loudly into the wall with each vicious thrust, but it's worth it for the unspeakably beautiful view it gives him, allowing him to see that gorgeous, expressive face as he fucks into Elliott from behind.

Park yanks the handsome legend back by his wrists, pulling him up against his chest as his other hand comes up to close around Witt's jaw, forcing him to face the mirror.

"Open your eyes, Elliott," Park groans into Witt's tan, freckled shoulder. "I want you to see how beautiful you are when you cum."

The pathetic, pleading cry that escapes his gorgeous boyfriend when the man hears Park's words is nearly enough to make him cum. Part of him feels like he could do this all night, keep Elliott trapped in his arms forever, but the trickster deserves a reward. Elliott’s followed Park's command to open his eyes, meeting his own tear-filled gaze in the mirror.

"Ohgod,  _ please! _ I n-n-need it so bad, I--" Elliott can't finish his sentence, he's stuttering and hiccuping and his breath hitches with each syllable he manages to sob out. 

"Whenever you want,  _ jagiya. _ You've been such a good boy tonight," Park purrs into Elliott's ear. 

He releases Witt's throat, instead reaching down between his muscular thighs, where the man's cock is so hard and swollen it looks almost purple, leaking from the tip and throbbing in Park's synthetic grip. He doesn't even give it a stroke -- the moment his hand closes around Elliott's cock, the beautiful legend immediately tenses up, spilling his seed all over Park's hand, the dresser, and the mirror attached to it with a strangled cry.

_ Fuck yes. Look at you, god. _

"Fu-u-uck b-baby," Elliott whines, whimpering with each merciless thrust of Park's hips, which are slamming into him now, rutting up against a spot that makes Elliott tense up around him, still shuddering with aftershocks.

"Look how-- _ ah! _ \--fucking beautiful you are, _ nae sarang," _ he growls against the trickster's throat, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

"I can't believe this is all  _ mine," _ Park grunts, grip tightening around Elliott's wrists. Elliott moans out a soft little  _ 'yours!' _

"This pretty face, this perfect  _ fucking _ body…" Park groans, thrusting a little harder as he says it, for emphasis.  _ "Neoneun jeongmal aleumdawo…" _

_ How are you real?  _ he thinks.  _ And why do you even want me? _

Elliott's flushed a pretty shade of pink now, and Park isn't sure if it's from the fucking or the praise, but it's gorgeous, and the look on the famous legend's face is going to make him cum any second now.

Elliott's still whimpering in Park's arms, biting his lower lip as he watches Park fuck him in the mirror. Park eventually releases his hold on Elliott's wrists and his face, both hands instead gripping the legend's hips and jerking them back against his own. The trickster is bent over the dresser again, resting on his elbows, his belly dragging through the puddle of cum he spilled on its surface only a few moments earlier. He's perking his ass up to meet each of Park's desperate thrusts in such a tempting manner, the hacker can't resist giving it a slap. Elliott moans, wiggling his hips a little.

"C'mon baby," Witt whines, giving Park a devious grin in the mirror. "Give it to me. I want you to  _ ruin _ me,  _ fuck…" _

_ Fucking hell, Elliott. Always so goddamn eager. _

Park groans, gripping the famous legend's hips a little harder as he buries himself in his tight heat. Elliott drives him crazy when he's like this, all whiny and desperate, giving Park a look that makes his dick throb. It's this bratty, pouty, needy little look -- almost like if Park doesn't utterly  _ wreck _ him, if he doesn't fuck Elliott so hard he can't walk the next day, Witt's going to take it personally.

_ "Fuck _ baby, gimme that big cock, I need it  _ so _ bad-- _ nghhh, f-fuck _ \--so good... _ ah!" _

_ Yeah, this man is going to be the death of me. The Syndicate might as well throw in the towel. _

Elliott is far from the first person Park's had begging for his dick, but he is unquestionably the most gorgeous, and heaven knows nobody's ever begged for it  _ quite _ like this. Elliott looks and sounds and feels so fucking  _ good _ . He knows it, too -- Park can tell from the mischievous look in Witt's eyes as Park fucks roughly into him. 

Elliott's eyes are wide, lips parted, gazing at Park through the mirror with an expression that's almost scandalized, a sort of faux-innocence and pretend surprise, like he  _ wasn't _ expecting the night to end with him bent over a piece of furniture and filled to the brim with a throbbing dick. 

It's not Park's fault, it really isn't.  _ Elliott _ started it. Park didn't make the man come into that bedroom and drop to his knees, but he'd fucking done it anyway, gazing up at Park with a kind of lazy submissiveness in those pretty eyes, saying,  _ "Can I have my dessert now, please?" _ and licking his lips suggestively.

Elliott's currently whimpering pathetically with each punishing thrust, but there's still a hint of wickedness in those big brown eyes, and the things coming out of his mouth are fucking  _ filthy. _ Elliott knows  _ exactly _ what he's doing to Park, wiggling his ass and begging for his cock, letting out those needy little cries, gasping and giving him that fucking  _ look, _ the look that drives Park  _ insane. _

"Shit," Park bites out, thrusts becoming uneven but no less aggressive as he barrels toward release. The desk is slamming into the wall so loud now he knows Renee must hear it, but he's so close,  _ so fucking close-- _

"Are you gonna cum in me, baby? You gonna fill me up,  _ hmm?" _ Elliott bites his lower lip, making this little face like he doesn't know the answer is  _ fuck yes. _

Park just growls, pounding into him hard enough now that Elliott's clenching up around him again, gasping  _ oh! _ each time Park's hips connect with his ass. When Park pins their hips together and grinds his cock as deep into Elliott as it will go, Witt's moans become so loud the neighbors can probably hear it. 

_ Thank god his mom sleeps downstairs, fuck... _

“Please, oh my  _ god, _ Hyeon," the trickster pleads, shuddering with overstimulation. Park groans when he hears his name on Witt’s lips, even though it’s not really his. 

He brings a hand down on that perky ass again, and Elliott practically yells,  _ “Fuck, _ baby!” and then all restraint is lost, if Park had any left in the first place. He can’t make himself be gentle, or slow down, or stop -- and for once, he’s not even bothering with trying to feel guilty about that. Elliott feels too good to even think about guilt, so he doesn’t, he just keeps pounding into him and relishing every delicious sound he’s rewarded with for his efforts.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ FUCK--!” _

“Is this how you want it, Elliott?” Park growls, voice rough and ragged. “Is this how you want me to  _ fuck _ you?”

“Yes, Daddy,  _ please!” _ Elliott sobs, and Park realizes he's cumming  _ again. _ As much as he can, anyway -- Elliott's dick twitches, spurting out a single jet of cum into the dresser as he sobs out another desperate plea, clenching up around Park's throbbing cock and milking it for every last drop of cum when Park follows him over the edge a moment later.

_ "Fuck, _ Elliott!"

  
  


\--

  
  


When she steps into the cave, Renee shivers a little. Apparently the Shadow dimension experiences winter, too. She shudders, wondering how cold it gets in a world with no sunlight to warm it.

Approaching the candle, she peers at the wall that isn’t really a wall.

“I don’t really know how this works but um, I kinda don’t feel like slicing my hand open right at this particular moment. Is that, like, a requirement, or--?”

The wall vanishes, revealing the room within. The vampire steps into view, looking a little surprised, but not unhappy to see her.

“Hey,” she says, suddenly feeling nervous. "You gotta get a doorbell or something, for real."

“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Renee,” he replies, smiling. He’s not wearing his coat, just the vest and that odd, ruffled shirt of his...which seems insane, because it’s  _ freezing _ cold.

“Uh, yeah,” she says sheepishly, remembering how ornery she’d been when they last spoke. She shivers again trying to tug her sweater up over her shoulders and failing. 

_ What the fuck is the point of wearing a sweater if it doesn’t even keep you warm? So dumb. _

“Is it, uh, any warmer in there?” she gestures to the room behind him, holding up the bottle of Merlot. “I brought wine! Shit, can you drink wine?” 

She’s not sure, but she vaguely remembers Elliott having a glass earlier, so hopefully?

The vampire laughs, and those razor-sharp fangs glint in the candlelight when he smiles, stepping aside.

“Please, come in.”

-

She’s relieved to discover it’s much warmer inside the vampire’s little hideaway, which is nice, because she’s still in the silly outfit from earlier, though she did switch to a less-ridiculous pair of shoes before she left. 

There’s a fire roaring in a fireplace she that she previously hadn’t noticed was there, built into the wall of the cave. It’s a hologram -- it must be. She didn’t see any smoke rising from the outside of the cave, and there’s no way he could get out to gather wood to keep it burning, anyway.

_ Sure is a lot of weird holotech stuff in here. Elliott’s mom would flip her lid. _

She awkwardly takes a seat on the chaise lounge sitting in front of the fireplace, nervously brushing her fingers over the red velvet. All of his furniture looks so old. Everything in this dimension does. But it exists alongside force fields and holograms, and all kinds of other tech that’s roughly equivalent to that of her own universe. 

_ This dimension is weird. _

The vampire has pulled two empty wine glasses out of a cupboard, handing one to her.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, filling the wine glass he just handed her. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for some time.”

“Uh, n-no reason. Just...feeling a little restless, I guess. And it’s Thanksgiving! I figured maybe you could use a little company.”

_ You sound so ridiculous, Renee. _

“I see,” he says, filling his own glass. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that your friends are currently making love rather loudly in the room next to yours?”

Renee’s suddenly glad that her leggings are already purplish-red color, because wine dribbles all over her lap when she hears what he said.

“Y-you--how do you-- _ what?” _ she coughs, trying not to choke on the alcohol she just aspirated

The vampire looks amused for a moment, but then he gazes down at his hands.

“I can hear them, and see them, through Elliott’s eyes. It’s because I--” he stops, like he isn’t sure how to put it. 

“Because of what I did to him. It connected us. An unexpected side effect of my...condition.” He stares at the floor for a moment, looking miserable.

Renee’s not sure what to say. 

“I do not  _ watch _ them,” he blurts out all of a sudden, looking embarrassed. "Not...often. Not when they're--"

He pauses. His pale, lilac cheeks have suddenly gone rather violet. 

“The sounds often slip through, even if I am not watching," he says after collecting his thoughts for a moment. "Your Elliott thinks  _ very  _ loudly.”

Renee snorts. “Elliott does everything loudly.”

_ Especially getting fucked. He gets fucked very, very loudly.  _

_ Jesus Christ. I need my memories wiped again. _

They both fall silent, sipping their wine. The vampire gazes into the fireplace, looking as beautiful and sad as he always does. Renee tries not to stare, but she wants to. He's like nothing she's ever looked at before, but she forces herself to look elsewhere, noticing a framed holograph on the end table next to the loveseat.

In it, two men stand side-by-side, both wearing white lab coats. She immediately recognizes one of them as Elliott -- he looks identical to the Elliott she knows, except he has glasses. His arm is thrown around the man next to him, who doesn’t look familiar at first. 

The other man is young -- mid-20s, at the absolute most -- with dark eyes and even darker hair. He’s wearing glasses, too, and something about his eyes are familiar, though she can’t put her finger on what it is. The Elliott in the photo leans over and smooches the dark-haired man on the cheek, making him blush.

Suddenly, she realizes who it is. 

The man in the photo is the man sitting next to her, before all the hardware. Before his skin went all purple and his eyes went all blue and the fangs popped out of his mouth. Before the experiment. Before all those terrible things happened to him. 

To both of them. 

Looking at the holograph makes her want to cry, so she looks away. The vampire is studying her closely.

“You’re even lovelier in person than you are in his head,” he murmurs, gaze drifting over her. Somehow it doesn’t come out sounding like a pick-up line. 

_ “Aleumdausineyo,” _ he adds softly.

Renee feels herself flush a little bit. She has no idea what to say back -- in part because she has no idea what he just said to her -- so for a moment, she says nothing. She just looks at him. He looks exhausted, she realizes...which doesn’t make any sense.

“Hey,” Renee says softly. 

The creature meets her gaze, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Have you been...eating? You look tired.” She thinks of the version of him she saw in her dream, looking damn near starved, and it makes her feel ill. He doesn’t look  _ that _ bad, thankfully.

“Yes. I am fine,” he says, but now he’s staring down into his glass of wine.

She can tell from the way he says it that the opposite is true.

“Bullshit, no you’re not. You look like Elliott did the week after you bit him.” 

She immediately regrets bringing it up when she sees how guilty the vampire looks after she says it. 

“Why aren’t you eating? Do you know how hard it was for me to get that blood for you?”

“Yes, which is why I am trying to make it  _ last,” _ he mumbles, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. “Like you said.”

“I said ‘make it last,’ not ‘starve yourself,’” she sighs, frustrated. “This whole thing is to help you  _ avoid _ starving, remember?”

“You are kind, Renee. But I’ve lived many years on the blood of animals. The longer you spoil me with the real thing, the more painful it will be to transition. It’s best that I limit myself, especially while the repulsor is...effectively repulsing.”

“Well, that’s part of the reason I came here tonight, actually. I’m still gonna fix the Repulsor for you, like I said. But I think I found a way to solve our blood bag problem. Safely. So you won’t have to sit in here waiting for a Shadow or a flyer to come wandering in.”

His expression is pained when he looks at her again.

“Renee…”

“Look,” she interrupts. “Do you have a name?” 

She’s been assuming it’s Hyeon, like Park’s, but calling them by the same name has felt wrong from the start, so she’s just never called the vampire anything but ‘you’ (and occasionally, ‘asshole’ -- but only when he’s deserved it). After what they did to him down in that lab, fuck knows if he even remembered his name to begin with.

But surprisingly, he nods. 

“Tae Joon.”

_ Oh. It’s different from Park’s. Huh. Cool. _

She smiles. “I like it. Suits you.” 

He smiles back at her a little bit.

“Okay, Tae Joon, hear me out. You gotta stop starving yourself. That’s why you keep going all feral on people. Well, maybe not  _ why _ , but it definitely isn't helping. Also, finding you a steady blood supply wasn’t easy, buddy. I’m gonna be pissed off if it was for nothing. Will you please actually drink it? Like, enough of it? Since I’m going to all this damn trouble in the first place? Pretty please?”

He sighs, looking frustrated. 

“How would you even--we’ve talked about this, I’m not, I  _ can’t--” _

“What if you could feed without turning me?”

“I thought you hated needles,” he mumbles, looking down.

“No, I mean,  _ actually _ feed from me. Like, how Elliott feeds. Watch.”

Those striking blue eyes go wide when she says that, even wider when she pulls out her knife, pressing the blade into the palm of her hand. She’s barely moved it a millimeter and he’s already jumped up, backing away from her until his back hits the wall of the cave.

“Renee, don’t! Please, I can’t--I’ll  _ hurt _ you, I--”

“No, look,” she holds out her hand, which is dripping blood. His eyes don’t move from her face, and he doesn’t move his body, either, keeping several feet of space between the two of them. It looks like he's holding his breath.

“C’mon,  _ look,” _ she urges him, thrusting her hand closer.

Tae Joon takes a few cautious steps forward, squinting at the palm of her hand.

She swipes her thumb over it, wiping away the blood so the vampire can more easily see the little colony of nanobots that are beginning to swarm around the wound.

“See? You won’t hurt me.”

His eyes are wide again.

“What--how did you--”

"The, um, version of you in my dimension has them, too. That's why your little stunt didn't turn him like it turned Elliott. It’s a long story. But the point is, you can feed, and I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

He just stares at her, eyes following each drop of blood that falls from her hand.

Her palm is filling with blood again, she feels it dripping down her forearm now. She’s kind of starting to feel like a fucking idiot, standing there with her arm held out, bleeding nanobots all over his bedroom floor. Nanobots that were  _ not _ easy to acquire.

_ At least they were free. Sorry you almost died because of it, Park. _

She sighs impatiently.

“So...are you gonna eat your Thanksgiving dinner, or are you gonna stand there and stare while it goes all over the floor?”

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Hey,” Elliott says, stroking Park’s chest and listening to the steady thumping of his heart.

They’re both lying on the bed, and Park’s hitting his ecig, one arm around Eliott, resting that synthetic-skinned jaw on the top of his head.

_ “Hm?” _ Park hums. 

It’s becoming increasingly difficult not to blurt out  _ “I love you!” _ during sex, and immediately afterwards. 

And all the fucking time. 

But Elliott’s absolutely  _ not _ going to let himself say it. Not a chance. Not this soon. Things are already moving at a ridiculous pace, barrelling down the tracks like the train on World’s Edge...if the car with the emergency brake were to go flying off the rails first. 

“Thanks for telling me your name,” Elliott says the only words that come to mind besides the ones he’s promised himself he’s not going to say.

Elliott feels Park sort of freeze up under him for a moment, but then he relaxes. He doesn’t say anything though, just strokes a thumb over the curve of Elliott’s shoulder.

“It’s pretty,” Elliott adds, feeling compelled to fill the silence. “Like you.”

“I don’t like it,” Park says softly, which breaks Elliott’s heart a little bit. “Never have.”

“I like it,” Elliott says honestly, sitting up so he can see Park’s face. “But I don’t have to call you that, like I said. You ever heard that thing--how’s it go, umm...  _ ‘What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” _ he chirps, excited he actually remembered it.

Park gives him a confused look.

“It’s from a really old play, nevermind. Basically, it means your name could be, like, Dickbag McJerkface, or something, and you’d still be just as beautiful. It means I don’t give a fuck  _ what _ your name is, I’m still gonna want to, y’know, do unmentionable things to you, and stuff.”

_ Wow. You’re a modern-day poet, Elliott. _

Park is silent for a very long time, but his eyes don’t move from Elliott’s. It feels like there’s something he wants to say, but Elliott doesn’t know what it could be. After a moment, Park pulls him back down into his arms and kisses the back of his neck. 

_God fucking dammit. I love you so much. This is so out of control. Fuck._

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Park murmurs against his shoulder, making him shiver a little.

“It’s kind of like having a girlfriend,” Elliott replies. “Except, y’know -- there’s a dick involved.”

Park snorts. 

“I’ve never had a girlfriend, either.”

_ Wait, what? _

Elliott pulls away again, rolling over so he can see if he’s serious.

Judging from the way Park’s doing the no-eye-contact thing again, he is. Elliott’s suddenly very glad he managed to keep the L-word from slipping out of his mouth earlier.

“Hey, that’s okay,” he says, reaching out and stroking Park’s cheek. “No pressure. We can go slow.”

Elliott’s not  _ actually _ sure if he can go slow, but he can definitely try.

“Yes,” Park replies. “We can go slow.”

Park’s gorgeous eyes lock onto his own.

“But I do not  _ want _ to go slow, Elliott.”

_ Oh. _

“Shit, kid,” Elliott laughs. “Me neither.”

Park cracks a smile, which always makes Elliott’s heart do a little flip. Getting a chuckle out of the guy feels like winning a match. 

He lays his head back against his Park’s chest, and it doesn’t take long before he’s nearly drifted off. Something about listening to his boyfriend’s heartbeat always does that to him.

But before he’s completely slipped into unconsciousness, he hears Park say, “Elliott?”

_ “Hmm?” _

“Do you...think Renee heard us?”

Elliott bursts out laughing. “D’you think there’s a chance in hell she  _ didn’t? _ Shit, dude, I’m just praying she’s drunk enough she forgets about it by tomorrow morning.”

Park groans.

  
  


\-----

  
  


“Are you ab _ solutely positive, _ Renee?” The vampire is looking more wild-eyed by the minute, breathing heavily as he stares at her bleeding hand.

“Yep.”

“And...and if my fangs break the skin--”

“It won’t matter, I told you,” she sighs, starting to get exasperated.

_ If I tolerated Caustic’s creepy ass and that giant needle for nothing, I’m gonna be so fucking pissed, oh my god. _

“And you’re sure, you’re  _ one-hundred percent--” _

“Holy  _ shit, _ dude,  _ yes,” _ she says, rolling her eyes and moving towards him. "You said something keeps Park from becoming...like Elliott. I figured out what that thing is. Now I have it. Got it?"

"Forgive my skepticism, Renee. I've never had a  _ willing _ victim," he says sarcastically, though his eyes are still fixed on the palm of her hand. He looks hungry.

He takes a cautious step forward. When he reaches out and takes her hand, his own are trembling, and they’re just as cold as she remembers them being the first night she visited his cave. She hopes his mouth is as warm as it was then, too.

He lifts her hand to his mouth, but stops again. She interrupts before he can say anything.

“Tae Joon, please. Please eat something.” 

_ For fuck's sake, dude. _

His eyes are on hers when his lips meet the palm of her hand, but they fall shut the moment her blood hits his taste buds. His brows are knotted in an expression of pure desperation as he drags his tongue over the wound, moaning against her hand when he swallows her down.

She tries not to be affected by the moan, or the feeling of his tongue on her skin, because he can’t really control either of those things, and she knew both things were coming, and she feels gross for finding his...affliction...so goddamned  _ erotic. _

But it is, _fuck._ Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the lonely, scary, insane couple of months she's had here recently, maybe it's because she had to listen to Park and Elliott _fucking_ earlier, _Jesus tapdancing __Christ_ \-- whatever the reason, everything about what's happening in front of her is painfully, ridiculously, _unbearably_ hot.

_ Get a fucking grip, Renee.  _

Her eyes widen when he drops to his knees in front of her, mouth still sealed over her palm, like the taste is so overwhelming he can’t keep himself standing anymore. She watches a tear leak from the eye with the optical implant and run down his left cheek. Her heart aches.

After a moment, he finally pulls his mouth away, and she assumes he’s finished, but she's wrong. One by one, the beautiful creature sucks each of her fingers between his lips and licks them clean, and she has to make a concerted effort to keep the moan that builds in her throat from escaping her lips. 

_ Why does that feel so good? What the fuck is wrong with me? _

Once her hand is clean, he bends his head so he can drag his tongue from her elbow to her wrist, licking up the trail of blood that leaked down her forearm while he’d stood there staring at her in awe.

When he pulls back, his chest is heaving, and he gazes up at her with a look she can’t quite place.

“Thank you,” he gasps out, licking her blood from his lips.

_ Fuck, that is so hot. What the fuck, Renee? _

She nods, swallowing thickly. 

"You're welcome."

There's an awkward silence.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, staring up at her with those beautiful eyes and that pained expression again.

_ Why  _ _ am _ _ I doing this? _

It’s a question she’s asked herself several times since this all began -- usually while she’s sneaking in and out of Lifeline’s medical bay, clutching a bag of stolen blood to her chest. Which, thankfully, she won’t be doing anymore. Still, she’s never quite been able to come up with an answer, so she thinks for a moment.

“Because...because I know how it feels to be alone in the world, with nobody looking out for you. I’ve been there. If--if nobody had taken a chance on me, I wouldn’t be here now,” she says, distantly wondering if she’ll ever see Voidwalker again, ever get a chance to say thank you.

“I don’t deserve any chances, Renee. I’m a monster.” 

“You’re a little rough around the edges, Tae Joon,” she says with a smile. “But you’re not  _ all _ bad. Honestly, you’re not even that scary.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, and her heart skips a few beats when he presses a kiss to the back of her wounded hand.

_ “Dowajusyeoseo gamsahamnida,” _ he murmurs against the back of her hand. “Thank you for your help,” he pauses before adding, “and your company.”

“Sure thing,” she says. 

“We have to be careful. I could hurt you, I could _kill_ you, I...” he trails off, like he’s not sure how to put it. “I can’t control myself. Something else takes over, and I can’t stop--”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” she says, interrupting what was surely going to be another stream of endless self-deprecation.  “We'll be careful, okay?"  


He gives her a tortured sort of look.

"So...how often do you need to feed?”

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Things:
> 
> -[I HAVE MADE A TUMBLR FOR Y'ALL.](https://holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com/) Come play with meeee!
> 
> -Yes, I have heard the voice log from Elliott's cell phone that appeared in the new update, and yes, it will play a part in this story. The holosuit is malfunctioning, and so is the only person who can fix it. Brb while I go and cry some more...;-;
> 
> -Yes, holo-photos/holographs (same thing) work like the photos in Harry Potter. Being original is hard, mmkay? If I get to the end of this fic and it sucks even _slightly_ less than Twilight, it'll be a win in my eyes. I am stealing terms from Star Trek and jokes from Brooklyn 99, and I will steal more shit. Don't fucking judge me.
> 
> (Okay, judge me for the porn. I deserve that.)
> 
> -I will stop with the "Daddy" shit I promise. Just not in this chapter.
> 
> -Elliott's brother's names are subject to change as we get lore updates. Respawn came in clutch with Evelyn's name this week, lol. I had her named Emma until, like, 24 hours ago. I _knew_ it would be an E name, though. I mean, come on. 
> 
> -My Korean is fucked, obviously, but Crypto's basically calling Elliott "my love" (nae sarang) and "baby" (jagi/jagiya), and he calls him beautiful a few times, and perfect once. He translates sometimes. As always, please fix my shit in the comments so when I go back and do my ginormous edit once this is done, I can fix the clusterfuck that are his Korean lines. I'm trying, y'all.
> 
> -I have no idea where Caustic fucking came from but he showed up in my brain a few weeks ago and was all, "Greetings, author. You will put me in your story now. This is not a debate." and I was like, "Mm..kay?" and here we are. Also, why does he have a Coca-Cola Santa outfit, Respawn? Just wondering whose idea that was. They know what kind of shit's going to end up on this website because of it. They have to know.
> 
> -I'll update the tags, I swear! I just don't wanna spoil anybody!
> 
> I don't even know, y'all. Do you hate me? Was it terrible? Did you have a favorite part? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> Next time, on This Goddamn Disaster: More blood-sucking! More heartbreaking backstory! More porn! Christmas presents! Horrifying nightmares and holosuit malfunctions!
> 
>   
Also, answers to burning questions such as:
> 
> -What the fuck happened to Shadowverse!Elliot and how exactly did the cave monster end up this way?
> 
> -On a scale of 1-10, how fucked is Crypto now that Renee knows his actual name?
> 
> -Will any of these dipshits ever figuratively grow a pair and have an honest conversation about their feelings?
> 
> All that and more, on the next episode of _Oh God Help Me, Why Is This Fic So Fucking Long?_
> 
> Happy Holo-days, babes. 
> 
> PS: Santa Claus(tic) -- terrifying? Hot? I can't fucking decide. Would y'all sit on that lap? No, just me? Okay anyway I'll put my Tumblr link here when I get it up! Next chapter most likely incoming in January, but maybe earlier. We shall see.
> 
> PPS: He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, and he'll shoot u in the face.


	10. Corrupted Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott’s not hungry for blood now, though. He’s hungry for something else. When Renee grips his hair tighter, hips thrusting forward involuntarily, Elliot thinks he might just get that ‘something else.’ She tastes so _fucking good,_ Elliott wants to drink her forever...but he knows he can’t. 
> 
> That’s alright, though, because there’s somewhere else he wants to put his mouth. He can smell her arousal, and from where he sits between her thighs, he can see the little spot of moisture that’s beginning to soak through the fabric separating her from his hungry mouth. His cock throbs at the sight, and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to pull that fabric to the side and taste what lies beneath it.
> 
> \-------
> 
> Elliott gets into the holiday spirit and throws a Christmas party on the _Mirage Voy'age._ Renee wins a Winter Express match with the help of an unexpected ally, then gets an even more unexpected holo-day gift. Park learns a new skill and puts it to good use. Something dangerous lurks in the shadows...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, y'all. I had to PRY my fingers from the keyboard on this one. If I hadn't, I'd have just kept editing it until the day I die. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but it's mostly holiday fluff so meh. We'll get back to the plot in Chapter 11. I hope all of you are having a lovely holo-day season! Thank you, dear readers, for your unending patience with this scatterbrained author. 
> 
> Quick TW: Something immensely sad happens in this chapter, but not to any of our protagonists, and it's not particularly violent. Just a heads up for those of you that are SENSITIVE, OKAY? If a scene makes me sad-cry while I write it, I like to give y'all a heads-up.
> 
> Also, [I HAVE A TUMBLR NOW.](https://holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com/) Gotta give the people what they want, y'know? Pop in and see what I'm up to while you're waiting on the next chapter, and hit up my ask box! I also occasionally post teasers for whatever in-progress chapter I'm currently writing, so if you find yourself in Spider Byte withdrawal between updates, come poke through my recent posts and/or yell at me to hurry TF up.
> 
> You can probably expect the next chapter sometime this month, god willing. That said, I'm about to let The Outer Worlds take over my life for the next, oh, 30 hours or so, thus the next update might take some time. It's the end of Act II as well, so I want to really take my time and get it right. So, yknow..._"Patience...just patience." [laughs, coughs, chokes on toxic fumes]_
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this Christmas-flavored clusterfuck of a chaper. Be careful with that eggnog, fam.

_ Mystik, _

_ I apologize for not writing sooner -- I have much to share, things have just been rather chaotic here lately. But I am safe, and all is well. Whatever news you’ve heard of me being injured is over-exaggerated nonsense likely meant to boost sales of The Outlands Journal. I was bitten by a prowler, but there is no shortage of medically-knowledgeable and competent Legends on the ship, and I was patched up in no time. Please do not worry. _

_ After some time here, I’ve found that keeping my distance from the others makes me stand out and draws unwanted attention. I blend in far more easily when I don’t isolate myself from my teammates. Since becoming a little friendlier, any suspicions the others may have about me seem to have faded for the most part, and they see me as one of their own now. When I was injured, the one I thought was a sociopath (and who definitely  _ ** _is _ ** _ Nox, you were right about that) repaired the damage to my synthetics. The legend with the phase-tech covered the cost of the procedure, and refused to let me repay her. She seemed suspicious of me at first, but it turns out she’s just as cautious and paranoid as I am, always watching her back. We have quite a bit in common, actually. She’s the only other Legend who seems even remotely mistrustful of the Syndicate. _

_ In an effort to learn more about my new colleagues, myself and some of the others all accompanied your favorite legend when he visited his home on Solace for Thanksgiving. I wanted to get another look at the arena there, and figured it would seem less odd than spending the holiday alone on the ship. The arena on Solace appears to be largely untouched, as far as I can tell. Someone’s definitely been using the lab, though. The underground structure was locked up tighter than the rest of the arena, like they’re expecting trespassers. It’s lucky I thought to have Jee do a full holoscan of the facility back in September, because upon regaining access to the facility, I discovered everything had been destroyed. Hardware gone. Trashcans full of burned paper files. Shattered holoemitters everywhere. Why would the Syndicate give us access to the lab for the games if it still held such valuable secrets? _

_ While on Solace, I also got a look at some fascinating literature regarding holosuits, as Mirage’s mother is the well-known engineering genius Evelyn Witt. She  _ ** _is_ ** _ a genius, to be sure, and a kind woman as well. Sadly, it seems she is losing her memory. I do not know if the cause is biological or the result of some sort of accident, but I think it’s safe to assume that if gene-editing were a potential solution, the procedure would have been performed already. Her eldest three sons are all gone -- MIA since Frontier War days. Mirage is her only living child. I learned a great deal about the man behind the Legend while we were there. Perhaps ‘Mirage’ is an accurate moniker, because he is not what he appears to be on the surface (sorry to disappoint you). Behind the facade of confidence, humor, and charisma is a man whose entire life has been blown apart. You’d never know it from talking to him, though.  _

_ Before you ask -- yes, I will see about getting you his autograph, and no, there is no way to discreetly ship one of those cardboard cutout things to you without drawing attention. I can’t imagine why you’d even want one in the first place. They make cardboard cutouts of other Legends too, you know... _

_ I digress. Witt’s mother took a great interest in Jee, and I spent some time demonstrating how it works, explaining how I made it and how I handle repairs. Before we left, Evelyn gave me a collection of folders and several hard drives full of schematics and holotech designs -- some of them seem to be the originals. I plan to study them extensively. A competent holopilot could aid us greatly in our fight against the Syndicate. The camouflage alone would be invaluable, if I can get it working. Jee would be twice as useful if I could make it invisible. _

_ Amazingly, the Witt family pet -- a chubby little tabby cat named Felix -- is a  _ ** _hologram!_ ** _ I completely fell for it. Then they turned off his holoemitter and he disappeared right along with the fur he left on my clothes. You wouldn’t believe some of the amazing holotech they’ve got in that house. While we’re on the subject, though -- yes, Saja gets fed once a day. I hope he hasn’t been manipulating you into feeding him more often than that, he’s already chubby enough as it is!  _

_ Thank you for taking him in. You’ve always had a soft spot for strays, though, haven’t you?  _

_ When it comes to my fellow Legends, once again it seems that  _ ** _I_ ** _ am the idiot. From the very beginning, I’ve misjudged just about every person on this ship. The people here are kind. Rough around the edges, yes, but kind. They all seem to care for each other very much -- even Nox, if you can believe it -- and when you see them all together at the end of the day, once the Games are done, it’s almost hard to believe they kill each other for a living. None of them seem to be aware what the Syndicate is doing behind the scenes, either. I have a feeling that if they were to find out, at least half of them would walk away, maybe more. As far as I can see, all of them are unwitting participants in the Syndicate’s crimes, and I suspect a good deal of them would be furious if they were to discover the truth. _

_ I find myself missing home the most during the holidays. This time of year is never easy for us, I know, but for some reason it’s harder this year. The distance between us feels greater somehow, though I’ve spent plenty of time in more distant worlds than Talos since I went off the grid. Perhaps it’s not my distance from you making me homesick, but my proximity to people who remind me of our family.  _

_ Please know I will be thinking of you (and of Mila) this Christmas, and every day. I miss your guidance and wisdom now more than ever. I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Mystik. _

_ Burn this after reading. _

_ Family Forever, _

_ TJP _

** _P.S. _ ** _ You were right -- again. Your favorite legend is not an idiot, and his skills are incredibly valuable both in and out of the ring. I’m sure you saw him save me from Nox a few weeks ago. Since you’re not here to say, “I told you so!” I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination.  _

It’s true. Elliott isn’t an idiot, as it turns out -- he just seems to enjoy acting like one. But he’s really very smart. A different kind of smart from his mother and Park, perhaps, but smart nonetheless. He’s clever in every way, and the man is a force to be reckoned with in the Ring, as Tae Joon is beginning to find out. Elliott’s downed him  _ fifteen times _ in the two weeks they’ve been back on the ship...not that Park is keeping track, or anything. 

(Currently the score is 15-3.)

That’s fifteen times more than anyone else on the ship has downed him since they’ve been back, and Park can’t decide if that’s good or bad, but it’s starting to piss him off. 

It is kind of hot, though.

Park is an  _ excellent _ shot, normally. So is Elliott, though, and the issue is that Elliott is now wearing those insanely-revealing Nutcracker pants/leggings/tights(?) --  _ whateve _ r -- and Park keeps missing headshots because he’s staring at Witt’s crotch instead of his face, and once he finally  _ is _ staring at that gorgeous face, he keeps waiting just a  _ sliver _ of a second too long to pull the trigger, and then--

_ Fwoop. _

Park is down.

_ Jenjang! Not again. Fuck me. _

_ (Please.) _

Park keeps finding himself downed, kneeling on the ground in front of his perfect boyfriend’s perfect body and looking up at that perfect face in the moment before he realizes it’s a hologram, and the real Elliott punches his lights out -- which keeps happening,  _ god dammit, _ over and over since this Holo-Day Bash thing started _ . _ Park also keeps finding himself  _ rock fucking hard _ when this happens, desperately wishing Elliott (either one of them -- flesh or hologram) would grab a fistful of his hair and bury that perfect dick in his throat.

The most recent time, Elliott had noticed Park’s...situation. He then stopped in the middle of the finisher, grinning like he’d gotten an early Christmas present, and leaned down to squeeze Park’s erection through his pants, murmuring in his ear, “I think I’ll save the finisher for later, baby.” 

The wingman Eliott held to Park’s head hadn’t even deterred his arousal -- feeling it pressed firmly against his temple just made his dick throb in Witt’s hand. 

Elliott squeezed him harder, chuckling. “You’re such a naughty boy. Keep this up and all you're getting for Christmas is coal, sugar.”

Then the beautiful bastard shot him in the face.

_ God fucking dammit. _

Ever since, all Park has been able to think about is being in that position again -- aching hard, on his knees, and trapped between two iterations of the same painfully-fuckable man. Tae Joon’s been trying not to think about Elliott and his decoy taking turns fucking his mouth, or  _ god, _ what two Elliotts would look like kissing each other, but he’s not doing a very good job. Somehow it just hadn’t occurred to him until recently that the decoys were touchable...and therefore  _ fuckable, _ but once it had, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Now every time he jerks off -- which is  _ all the goddamn time,  _ lately -- Park finds himself imagining that he’s bent over Elliott’s bed with one thick, rigid cock fucking into his throat as the other one squeezes into his ass and  _ fuck, oh god, yes,  _ ** _please_ ** _ \-- _ he barely even has to touch himself before he's erupting, painting the glass door of his shower with a  _ ridiculous _ amount of cum and moaning,  _ “Fuck, _ Elliott!” as it shoots out of him like the goddamned geyser on World’s Edge.

Park was almost positive Elliott would be highly enthusiastic about such a scenario. But for some incredibly stupid reason, he was too nervous to bring it up. It wasn’t that he thought Elliott would say no, or be offended -- it was that he didn’t think he could actually get the words out of his mouth without spontaneously combusting from anxiety and shame. He wasn’t as brave as Elliott when it came to asking for what he wanted, at least in the bedroom.  _ ‘Can you and an indeterminate number of your decoys take turns wrecking my mouth and/or ass, please?’ _ wasn’t the kind of question Park felt comfortable asking, nor would he ever. This little fantasy was one that would have to stay confined to his imagination, unfortunately. 

For the moment, at least.

He wasn’t sure how things had gotten this way -- how he’d gotten himself into a situation like this, where he was letting someone get to know him, letting them get attached, letting  _ himself  _ get attached. It was scary. It was  _ stupid. _ It was the most dangerous thing he could possibly be doing. And deep down, Park knew it was wrong. He was supposed to be focusing on the Syndicate, not focusing on Elliott’s dick. 

...or Renee’s nipples.

They were pierced. He’d discovered it when he awkwardly encountered her in the hallway outside Elliott’s room the morning after Thanksgiving. His face was already beet red knowing she had heard them the night before -- and she  _ definitely _ had, he was positive of that once he sobered up a little. They had been  _ far _ too loud.

As he and Renee did the awkward dance of two strangers walking in opposite directions down the same narrow hallway, his eyes drifted down from her beautiful face, because he didn’t want to look into those ghostly eyes after what he knew she’d heard him doing to her best friend the night before. 

There was a problem, though. Renee was more exposed than he’d ever seen her, standing there barefoot in a pair of tight little black shorts and a white, sleeveless shirt that bared part of her midriff. 

_ And no bra.  _

_ God damn. _

Solace’s blinding sun had just started to rise, and her skin was bathed in the bright morning light that was streaming in through the window in the hallway. It streamed through the front of her tank top, too, which was so thin it was semi-translucent where the light hit it. Through the slightly-sheer fabric, Park could make out the dusky pinkness of her nipples, and he caught the telltale glint of metal as the sunlight bounced off the little steel bar bells, reflecting back through her shirt and into his eyes, where the sight promptly exploded his brain. 

_ What the hell is the point of wearing a shirt if the fabric’s that thin? Fuck, Renee... _

The metal detector in his optical implant confirmed what he already knew as he guiltily allowed it to scan her body, hoping he was being subtle. He couldn’t stop staring. When he’d come to her room the previous morning to investigate the source of the terrified screams he’d heard coming from within, she’d been wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of long pajama pants, and he’d been able to focus on their conversation, rather than the fact that she was  _ definitely _ braless under said t-shirt.

But this was not like that outfit. This little getup was so delightfully revealing, it was impossible not to stare. Park was pretty sure  _ anyone _ in his shoes would be doing the same thing, because  _ fuck, she looks delicious, _ but that doesn’t stop the wave of guilt that crashes over him when he feels his cock stiffening.

It had all happened in the space of about three seconds, and his eyes snapped up to her face the moment his brain had processed the visual input from them, but three seconds was all it took for his body to react. He was already hard, and that was not good, because he was just as exposed as Renee, standing there as he currently was, with only his black boxers and his artificial skin to protect him from her wicked little blade and those piercing blue eyes.

Renee looked as flustered as he felt, which  _ was _ good, because it meant she hopefully hadn’t noticed how  _ fucking hard  _ his dick was. After another awkward second of being in each other’s way, Park remembered how to operate his limbs correctly, stepping out of her path and flattening himself against the wall with a mumbled  _ ‘miahnhe.’ _

He gestured for her to pass him, and when she did, he couldn’t help but steal another look, because he suddenly needed to know where exactly her rear end landed on a scale of one to ten. No ass could beat Elliott’s (which was a perfect eleven), but Renee’s came damn close, and Park found that he wanted to bury his face in it just as badly. She was so ghostly-pale, Park reckoned that cute little ass of hers would turn a delightful shade of pink after a few good slaps. 

The thought was so unexpectedly lurid that he actually gasped when it entered his brain.

_ Tae Joon! Mystik would kill you. Renee will  _ ** _actually_ ** _ kill you. _

But the pang of guilt that stabbed through his chest as he watched her walk away did nothing to deter how painfully hard he was, just like her knife hadn’t deterred it when she’d dug it into his skin and threatened him all those weeks ago. Just like Elliott’s wingman hadn’t deterred it when he’d pressed its barrel into Park’s skull and squeezed his aching cock once they’d returned to Talos and the Games. 

The danger just made it hotter.

_ Stop fucking staring, you animal! What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re better than this! _

Finally tearing his gaze from Renee’s delicious-looking bottom, he took a breath and collected himself, moving back towards Elliott’s room and thanking every god he didn’t believe in that Renee hadn’t noticed the state he was in.

His synthetic palm had just closed around the knob of Elliott’s bedroom door when he heard her say, “Try to keep your eyes in your head, Park.”

_ You IDIOT. She can HEAR when you stare! _

_ Fuck. _

When he turned around and looked at her with wide eyes, she just snorted and rolled her pretty blue ones. 

Then she disappeared into the bathroom.

After several prolonged, deep breaths, Park returned to the room where he and Elliott had shamefully retreated the night before, having completely given up on attempting to maintain the facade of sleeping in separate rooms, and not wanting to stay in the one next to Renee’s after what happened on the dresser. Against the dresser. All over the dresser. 

_ She’s right, you are a fucking mess, Park. _

He climbed back into Elliott’s bed, where the trickster immediately noticed the state he was in, and wasted no time interrogating him as to its source. 

“That’s, uh, some pretty serious morning wood you got going on there, baby,” Elliott teased with a mischievous grin. “You, uhhh, wanna tell me what that's about?”

_ Oh god. No.  _

_ Yes.  _

_ Shit, I don't know. _

After five solid minutes of non-stop  _ “TellmetellmetellmeTELLME!” _ from Elliott, Park cracked. He confessed.

“She was not wearing a bra,” he said, blushing profusely. “Her shirt did not...conceal much.”

_ Neither did those shorts, fuck. _

_ And you kept looking anyway, you monster. _

“Oh my god, you got an eyeful of wardrobe malfunction? Dang, dude. I’m kinda jealous.”

Park covered his eyes with his hand, groaning. “Yes, but that’s not it.”

Elliott gave him an expectant look.

Park sighed.

“Her nipples are pierced.”

Elliott’s jaw dropped, and he didn’t say anything for a second, presumably waiting for his brain to collect itself. He had that scandalized look on his face again, but it wasn’t pretend this time.

“You absolute  _ dog!” _ Elliott giggled, swatting him playfully. “Fuck, man! Why would you tell me that? God, that is  _ all _ I’m gonna be able think about when I talk to her now. Thanks for that, babe. I really needed to know that, because last night didn’t make things awkward enough.”

Park’s face was so red you could have fried an egg on his cheek.

“Forgive me, Elliott. I don’t know what--what has...gotten into me.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow.

“Forgive you? For what, having a boner? Oh noooo, I’m soooo mad!” he giggled, tickling Park’s ribs a little and making him squirm.

_ No, forgive me for wanting to fuck everything that moves and reminds me of you, including your beautiful best friend and those god damn holograms. _

Park didn’t know what to _ actually  _ say. After a moment, Elliott gave him a strange look.

“Baby, c’mon. What’s ‘gotten into’ you is that Renee is fucking  _ hot,” _ the trickster said, smiling at him. “Do you think I’ve never gotten a boner over her? Jesus, did you  _ see _ her at dinner last night? Like, I was chugging that wine to keep myself from chugging her blood. I mean, she’s my best friend--I mean, I would never--I mean, only if she  _ wanted _ to--but I’m  _ human-- _ uh, sort of--and you are too, apparently. It’s okay to think about things you can’t actually do. Like, in your imagination. Unless, uh, the person in question is actually interested, in which case, you should  _ definitely _ go for it. And also maybe ask her if I can watch…”

_ She is most definitely not interested. Not in me, at least…  _

Park opened his mouth to argue but what came out was more like, “Elli- _ ah!” _ because Elliott had suddenly leaned forward, squeezing Park’s dick like he had the last time Park was on his knees for him, in the Ring.

Park was still terribly embarrassed, and he wasn’t even sure  _ why _ at that point, because Elliott was right. Having a boner for someone who doesn’t have one for you isn’t the end of the world, if you’re not being a total creep about it.

_ So then why am I so mortified? _

_ Oh, right, because I’m being a  _ ** _total fucking creep _ ** _ about it.  _

_ Because I have no self-control. Because I’m selfish, and I’m greedy, and I’m a fucking monst-- _

“C’mon, baby,” Elliott purred, interrupting Park’s internal monologue by tugging his boxers down and freeing his cock, which was so desperate to be touched it fucking  _ hurt. _ “Let me make it better,  _ mmkay?” _

_ Mmkay... _

When Elliott wrapped his hand around him again, skin-on-skin, Crypto couldn’t stop himself from reflexively thrusting up into his boyfriend’s grip, choking out a surprised  _ ‘guh!’ _ sort of sound. Elliott let go of him then, which was terribly cruel, but before Park could even groan out one needy, desperate syllable of protest, Witt’s hand was back again, wrapped firmly around his dick and slick with spit.

_ “God,  _ Elliott…” Park groaned, just barely keeping himself from letting loose a shameless moan a moment later when he remembered that they  _ absolutely should not  _ be doing this right now. “We can’t, if she hears us--Elliott, we-- _ nghhhfuck--!” _

“Then we’ll just have to be quiet, won’t we?” Elliott replied with a devious grin, slipping the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the hacker’s leaking cock up his chest and over his mouth at the same moment he swiped his thumb over Park’s dripping cockhead. 

_ “Mmmmph!” _ Park moaned into his hand.

“God  _ damn, _ baby,” Park’s gorgeous boyfriend said, climbing over him to get a better view of the absolute  _ wreck _ he was making of the man beneath his hands. 

“You’re so  _ wet…” _ Elliott smeared more pre-cum over Park’s cockhead, stroking him faster.

Park meant to say  _ ‘fuck!’ _ but it didn’t come out that way, because the word was caught in Elliott’s palm before it could fully escape his lips. His face was flushed, eyes fallen shut, and he was thrusting up desperately into Elliott’s hand, because he needed it too badly to stop himself. He was just grateful for the hand over his mouth -- it was all that stopped the shameless begging in his mind from spilling from his lips.

_ Pleasepleasepleaseohgodyes, fuck...you’re so good to me, Elliott.  _

_ That feels so good, please don’t stop! I need it, fuck… _

_ ….How does a fucking handjob feel this goddamn good? This cannot be normal, what in the fuck-- _

“You’re allowed to want to fuck other people, baby,” Elliott said teasingly, giving Park a look that made his cock twitch in the trickster's hand. “Especially people as hot as Renee.”

_ God, PLEASE don’t say her name right now!  _

_ Oh fuck, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think abou-- _

“You can’t help it can you, baby? It’s part of your programming, isn’t it? Wanting to fuck beautiful things,” Elliott was clearly referencing himself. “Especially beautiful things with... _ hardware.” _

_ FUCK. _

_ “Mmmmgh!” _

Park was whimpering then, gasping against the trickster’s hand, trying not to think about the way the sun had illuminated Renee’s chest, or how beautiful and fucking  _ soft  _ she looked, but mostly trying not to think about how badly he wanted to put his mouth on those  _ fucking piercings, fuck fuck fuck-- _

“Aww, baby, you want it  _ bad, _ don’t you?” Elliott teased, squeezing him tighter.

_ So bad, god,  _ ** _please._ **

It was true, so Park nodded, because he couldn’t really do anything else and he  _ needed _ Elliott to keep going. If the beautiful trickster were to stop then, Park was one-hundred percent sure he himself would up and die right there in Elliott’s bed.

_ Please make me cum, oh my god, please! _

“God, it’s so cute when you get embarrassed like this. Your cheeks get all pink and you bite those pretty lips and  _ fuck, _ kid, you don’t know what it does to me, seeing you this way. You’re so fuckin’  _ hot,” _ Elliott growled, giving him a devious look before bending down slightly to fucking _ drool _ all over Park’s dick and the hand wrapped around it, making the sensation of his stroking fist so deliciously slick, Park’s entire body jerked a little bit when Elliott’s hand began pumping him again.

Park gasped out a muffled  _ "Elliott!" _ into the palm of his boyfriend's hand.

_ Fuck yes, please... _

"I wanted to do this to you the second I fuckin' laid eyes on you, kid,” Elliott growled. “You don't know how bad, god. You're so fucking  _ pretty, _ Hyeon. Like, pretty enough that I'm legimit--letigim-- _ seriously  _ jealous. I saw this pretty fuckin’ face and this gorgeous fuckin' body and I knew right then. Knew I had to have you, had to touch you, had to see you like this, had to get you in my bed, in my mouth. Had to make you moan, make you cum, make you  _ mine…" _

_ I am yours, Elliott. _

Park's face was burning and he wasn’t even sure why. For some reason, Elliott seemingly always knew exactly how to fucking  _ wreck _ him, always knew exactly what kind of filthy things to say to make him lose control.

"And you damn near broke my arm the first time I tried to touch you! But I'm sure I'm not the only person who looks at this gorgeous creature," he nodded in Tae Joon's direction, "and thinks,  _ 'God, I need to fuck that,'  _ or like… _ 'I would not be against fucking that,' _ and I may be a selfish slut, but I'd be wrong to try and keep you away from them, darlin’. Gotta share the love, y’know?"

_ What? Who? _

Park was struggling to focus on Witt’s words because his spit-slick palm felt so _ fucking good.  _

_ Elliott, what are you talking abou-- _

“Look at me, baby,” Witt purred.

With a great deal of effort, Tae Joon forced his eyes open. He was shaking, chest heaving, but he made himself meet Elliott’s tender gaze.

“I just need you to know something,” the famous legend said, slowing the motion of his hand and changing pace to a languid, teasing rhythm.

Park whined into his other hand, grateful it was there to muffle the scandalous, pleading cry that would have surely escaped him otherwise.

_ Please, please, please, fuck… _

“I need you to know that as much as I lov--uh, as much as I  _ would _ love to keep you all to myself, that’s just not my style, sugar. You're too beautiful, too delicious not to share. So I’m just sayin’...if there _ is _ some other hot person out there besides me who wants to make you cum all over yourself, that’s okay,  _ mmkay?” _

_ Jebal, nae sarang, please! _

“Even if they don't want to, uh, share with  _ me. _ Don’t worry, I won’t get jealous. I know nobody’s pretty enough to compete with me,” Elliott winked, grinning.

Park groaned at the thought of Elliott sharing him with someone, with a decoy…

_ ...with Renee... _

“I had three brothers growing up, too,” Elliott said, suddenly stroking him faster than before, running his thumb over the sensitive skin under the head of Park’s dick. “Trust me, baby -- I know how to  _ share.” _

Tae Joon shuddered, balancing on the edge and doing his best not to let his eyes fall shut again. Because Elliott told him not to, but also because with his eyes shut, all he could see was a vision of himself bent over Elliott's bed with his face buried between Renee's thighs and Elliott's perfect cock fucking into him from behind.

Park found himself again feeling grateful that Elliott thought to put a hand over his mouth, because the sounds that would otherwise have left it would be the most pathetic, needy ones he'd ever made in his life.

Over a  _ handjob. _

_ Fuck, jagi.  _

Elliott leaned a little closer, stroking him fervently and giving him a look that was fucking  _ indecent,  _ like he was going to suck Tae Joon’s goddamn  _ soul _ out through his dick. 

Or through the inside of his thigh, maybe. 

Park whimpered, still thrusting up desperately into his lover's grip, leaking precum over Elliott's fist every few strokes.

_ So close, just like that-- _

The pretty trickster smiled deviously and said “I share with the decoys sometimes, too,” giving Park a wicked little wink, and then he was  _ ruined. _

_ Oh god, FUCK--  _

Suddenly Park was sobbing into Elliott’s hand and cumming all over himself.

He almost felt like he could do it again a moment later, when he watched as Elliott leaned forward and  _ licked it off his stomach. _

_ Holy  _ ** _shit._ **

_ Yeah. I’m in love with him. _

_ God fucking dammit. _

  
  


\---------

  
  


Witt is an appropriate family name because both Elliott and his mother are clever and quick-witted. Quite frequently Elliott will say something -- on purpose -- that causes everyone in whatever room he’s occupying burst into laughter. He’ll make some sort of comedic connection between two unexpected things -- and whatever he says, it’s usually funny because it’s true -- and then everyone is giggling and whatever tension may have hung in the air the moment before instantly disappears. His charming charisma and clever sense of humor can turn anyone’s bad day around. The famous legend is twice as chatty as normal lately, and ten times as excited. It would seem he enjoys the holiday season.

Park, however, does not. 

But that’s okay, because what Park  _ does _ enjoy is every fucking second he spends in Elliott’s presence -- even on the ridiculous decoy-filled ship they’ve been given access to for the holiday event. There are Elliotts  _ everywhere _ , and Park has been doing his best not to think about what kinds of things those decoys in the hot tub might be getting up to, with limited success.

_ God, two Elliotts.  _

_ Shit, ten of them. _

_ Mmmmfuck, don’t think about it, Park. Don’t do it. _

Park is pretty sure he was right -- this is the Syndicate’s big plan to take him down. They must know one Elliott is almost enough to kill him. Just the thought of touching more than one is enough to stop his heart, so he’s doing his best to ignore all the  _ goddamn holograms _ that are all over the goddamn place all of a goddamn sudden. 

Especially the cute one that he keeps catching staring at him. 

It always blushes and looks away -- not something the real Elliott would likely do, not for very long, at least -- but for whatever reason, that makes Park want to know  _ everything _ about it. Like what other things make it blush. Or what it looks like when it cums, if it feels or sounds or tastes any different from the real Elliott. Whether it does or doesn’t, Park wants to put his mouth all over it regardless. For purely scientific purposes,  _ obviously. _

...like seeing how long it takes him to have the pretty little thing begging him to fuck its pretty little ass. 

_ Fuck. I love him.  _

_ Every single one of him. All of him. _

_ This is fucked,  _ ** _I _ ** _ am fucked. _

_ Everyone _ loves Elliott. When Elliott’s in the room, no one gives a shit what’s on their phone or their AR display or the nearest holoscreen, because Elliott is performing 24/7, and he’s a  _ far _ more interesting show. Even Silva -- who Park’s pretty sure has some  _ serious _ issues with ADHD and an untreated, raging addiction to stimulants -- stops what he’s doing and pays attention to Elliott when he enters the room. He even puts down his controllers (all three of them) and actually looks away from that godforsaken game with the dancing and the...weird tree-house building, or whatever.  _ Fort-fight, _ or something equally inane-sounding -- Park’s not sure, because he doesn’t play it. The simulated version of the Apex Games is  _ far _ superior, anyway...even though his in-game character model’s Legendary skins all totally  _ suck. _

Well,  _ most _ of them suck. The Halloween one was admittedly kind of neat, before he met it in real life and it tore out his throat.

But the skin was cool, at least. His holiday Legendary skin is  _ trash, _ though.

Park eyes the newest addition to his digital self’s closet with ire because it’s absolutely  _ ridiculous, _ but seeing it still fills him with relief.

_ The Syndicate really has no idea who I am if they think I’d wear something like that. _

The frost-covered flesh is sort of neat. The ridiculous frozen hair, however, is not.

_ As if I would  _ ** _ever _ ** _ leave the ship looking like that. _

Park isn’t quite as vain as Elliott, but he appreciates a certain...aesthetic. An aesthetic that this “Hack Frost" nightmare decidedly does  _ not _ fit into. 

_ That hair is a fucking mess. _

It looks like the titular character of the other stupid game Elliott and Silva are obsessed with, that one with the idiotic blue hedgehog that never slows down and goes barging into Skull Town before its team mates have a  _ fucking _ body shield--

His dislike for Silva isn’t personal, really. The man just happens to be Park’s polar opposite, and that would be fine, except that Elliott really likes Silva. Just as a friend, Park is pretty sure. But it still makes him jealous. Even though he’s roughly 85% certain Silva is fucking Ajay...or, well, Ajay’s probably fucking him, because she would definitely wear the pants in that scenario. Regardless, he’s pretty sure Octane isn’t a threat, romantically. And he’s really not a bad guy, just an idiot. Precisely the kind of idiot Park thought Elliott was at first. Reckless. 

Crypto can’t talk, though. He’s been pretty fucking reckless himself as of late. But it still makes him a little jealous. Jealous enough that he made sure to let Silva stumble upon the two of them making out inside one of the houses at the Overlook during a match.

“Uhhh, sorry amigos,” Silva had said, once he recovered from the shock. “The ring is coming, vamanos!”

Then Silva bolted -- even faster than usual -- and Park had felt a possessive surge of pride.

_ That’s right, you better run. He’s mine. _

Still looking at some of his team mates' holiday-themed skins, Park is pretty sure someone in the Syndicate’s costuming department had a few too many glasses of eggnog before designing some of them. He wonders how many of his fellow legends plan on buying the physical versions to wear in the arena.

Somehow, Silva’s costume is one of the least-stupid. It makes sense, at least.

Elliott’s is cute, but that’s only because it’s based on Evelyn's design, and it’s on Elliott’s perfect body. It's also fucking hot, and Tae Joon cannot stop staring. 

Park had been pretty sure that Elliott’s ass could not possibly look any better than it did in the Ghost Machine armor -- well, except for when it’s naked and spanked-red, speared on Park’s dick -- but somehow, it does. Those thin, white ballet leggings hide absolutely nothing, and Elliott’s ass isn’t the only thing that looks amazing in it. It makes his dick look  _ huge. _

To be fair, it  _ is _ huge, but that is neither here nor there. The point is that the way it looks in that Nutcracker costume is fucking  _ obscene. _ It’s distracting. It’s very, very,  _ very _ distracting. Park would have honestly preferred Elliott wear something a little more like Renee, whose wintry 'Wreath' outfit was far more practical and appropriate. Park had recently seen her donning a green bodysuit with little white snowflakes on it. It almost looked like some sort of pajama onesie, but it covered all her... _ assets, _ and it was cute. She was back in her scarf again, too. No exposed shoulders --  _ thank the fucking gods _ \-- so Park could actually do his job when they got paired up for a match instead of spending it drooling and wishing he could put his mouth on her delicate throat and...a few other places.

But he’s drooling anyway. The image of her standing barely-clothed in Solace’s warm morning sunlight is still seared into his brain, and it has nothing to do with his optical implant. He can’t stop thinking about her.

Everyone else looks ridiculous, though. Park wonders what in the actual  _ fuck _ would ever compel someone to sit on Santa C(l)austic’s lap. He’ll sit on Pathfinder’s goddamn attachment before he goes anywhere near that noxious freakshow.

He also wonders who in their right mind would spent 500 Legend Tokens on a goddamned  _ gun charm,  _ but he’s not surprised that’s how much they cost. The Syndicate has always been money-hungry. Hungry enough to kill.

“Oh my god, you HAVE to get it. Order it! Order it! Order it!” Elliott chants excitedly.

Park gives him a skeptical look.

“It’s cool! You'll look like a White Walker!”

“A what?”

“Oh my god, you’re not even paying attention to this season, are you? You’re so lame,” Elliott teases. “I dunno, maybe you’d like the books better. Wraith has all of them, I bet she’d let you borrow them. They’re long as  _ fuck _ though, and the guy never finished writing the last one... Anyway--order it! It’s like an Elf on the Shelf that got dipped in liquid nitrogen.  _ Order ittttttt!” _

“Not happening,” Park says flatly.

But then Elliott gets all sad and dejected, and Park instantly feels like shit. But he CANNOT wear that fucking thing. It’s not happening. Park hates himself, but not  _ that  _ goddamn much.

\--

He’s surprised when he’s informed he has mail -- actual, physical mail that was delivered by the FPS. It’s a package, and he’s definitely not expecting any mail except for the kind that you burn after reading. The kind that gets delivered to you via drone when you slip away from the rest of your squad during a match.

This was not that kind of mail.

_ Would they mail me a bomb? Surely not while I’m on the dropship with everyone else... _

_ Maybe anthrax or something? Good luck with that, assholes. Suck my nanobots, you're not taking me down this easy. _

Though it was addressed to Hyeon Kim, having an actual piece of mail with the Frontier Postal Service’s official seal stamped on it kind of made Park feel like he was having a heart attack. This having-a-heart-attack feeling did not improve when he realized the package was from neither the Syndicate nor from his mentor -- the name on the return address was  _ Evelyn Witt. _

He wanted to open it right then, but Elliott was around, so he had to spend a few hours wondering  _ what's in the fucking box?! _

Once he was sure Elliott was in a match, Park crept away to his bedroom on the dropship to open it. Unfolding the cardboard flaps, he was met with a great deal of red tissue paper with a note on top. 

_ Hyeon, _

_ I must apologize, because this isn’t my best work -- I didn’t get a look at that frosty little disaster they want to put you in until the very last minute, so this was rushed, and I’m not entirely sure it’s much better. You don’t have to wear it! I just wanted you to have something, in case you were feeling festive. :)  _

_ E-mail me if you have any questions about the blueprints, I’ll do my best to answer them. You’re a smart kid, you’ll figure it out. Sorry my handwriting is so messy. _

_ I'm glad Elliott has friends like you and Renee in his life. Thank you for watching out for my sweet boy. _

_ Merry Christmas, _

_ Evelyn _

_ P.S. -- Felix has been inconsolable since you left. Visit us again soon! And tell Pathfinder to send me that pie crust recipe! _

Beneath several layers of red tissue papers was a new outfit. A festive outfit.  _ Very _ fucking festive.

It was like an ugly Christmas sweater on Stim, but it was AMAZING and there was absolutely, positively no fucking way Park wasn’t going to wear it. It was the cute kind of ugly, not the scary kind of ugly like that  _ fucking Hack Frost-- _

The point is, it was cute. 

Also, Park couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten an actual Christmas present, from an actual person, that was actually meant to bring a smile to his face, as opposed to one that was actually a coded message, or some vital intel, or some other part of the secret life he was forced to live. Looking back at Evelyn's note, Park’s allergies suddenly started acting up, or...something. 

He was definitely  _ not _ crying.

When he was finished not-crying, Park e-mailed Evelyn a sincere thank-you, along with ten questions regarding the holosuit schematics she’d given him right before they’d left her home after the Thanksgiving holiday.

At the time, he hadn’t quite understood  _ why _ she’d wanted him to have them -- some of the schematics looked like originals, with Evelyn’s messy handwriting scrawled across the pages in purple ink. But everything about her work was fascinating, and he damn sure wasn’t going to turn down a chance to learn everything he could about it, so he’d taken the papers and the hard drives and the holoemitters and nodded politely, thanking her. The secretive way she’d pulled him aside to give it to him was a little strange, though.

Also strange was the way she just...wasn’t around at all the day after Thanksgiving. Feeling under the weather, according to Elliott. Elliott himself seemed a little off when he mentioned it, but Park couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Evelyn had reappeared the next day, and she seemed off, too. Just as pleasant and charming as always, but...foggy, somehow. The day after that, she asked Renee her name again. Six times. They’d been there since Wednesday night. It was Sunday. So that was...odd. Park thought perhaps she was just bad with names.

He hadn’t put things together until they were back on Talos, on that ridiculous hologram-filled ship. Park was  _ definitely _ not mentally calling it the Boyfriend Boat, only he totally was. It was full of Elliotts!

“Has anybody seen my phone?” Elliott yelled over the obnoxious music, slurring a little bit. 

It was the first weekend of Elliott’s completely, utterly,  _ unbelievably _ over-the-top Mirage-themed event. Everyone was trashed, because Caustic's eggnog was so strong Park was pretty sure it qualified as a pharmaceutical. He was drinking it anyway, though, sitting on a couch on the upper deck of the new ship the Syndicate provided for Elliott's Christmas event.

Park _ hated _ Christmas, and also hated everything about the idea of Elliott interacting with anyone who was involved with the Syndicate. He reminded himself that they weren’t trying to kill Elliott, they were trying to kill  _ him, _ and harming their most famous (and thus most marketable, most  _ profitable _ ) legend probably wasn’t in their immediate plans. So for Eliott’s sake, Park did his best to try to relax and enjoy the...scenery.

He caught the shy decoy staring at him  _ again, _ and decided it was time for him to put down the eggnog. If he didn’t, that sweet little thing was going to end up bound and gagged in his bed by the end of the night, and that was probably something he should try to avoid, because the version of him that wasn’t a  _ fucking lecher _ would likely feel a little bit bad about it the next morning, if he were to let it happen.

_ I’m not responsible for what happens if you keep looking at me like that though, you little tease.  _

_ Fuck, I would  _ ** _ruin_ ** _ you… _

He takes another large gulp of eggnog, trying to figure out why he wants to fuck this one so bad when  _ they all look the exact fucking same. _ Somehow this decoy just looks so...innocent.

_ Innocent until I get my fucking hands on you...god, I bet it would be so easy to make him cum in his holosuit… _

Everyone’s drunk and distracted, it’s the weekend, and someone tied mistletoe to Jee, who is drifting back and forth and beeping anxiously, like there’s so many Elliotts in the room, it isn’t sure which one it should be hovering over. When Park catches the decoy’s eye again, he licks his lips, slipping a hand between his thighs and rubbing himself lewdly. The look on the decoy’s face is fucking  _ priceless, _ like it’s so embarrassed it desperately wants to look away but it can’t, because it’s still Elliott, and Elliott always fucking  _ wants it. _

_ That’s right, jagi. Come sit on Daddy’s lap and tell him what you want for Christm--YEP, I’m gonna put down the eggnog now. Holy shit, Park. You are drunk as f-- _

“Baaaaabe,” the real Elliott called, wandering over and shaking Park out of the obscene fantasy playing in his head. “Have you seen my phone?”

Park shook his head, touching his temple to activate his optical implant and fly the drone. “If it’s nearby, Jee will find it.” 

“You’re so fuckin’ cool, baby,” Elliott said with a drunk little smile on his face. Park couldn’t help but grin.

_ You’re so fucking cute, jagiya. _

_ Sorry I keep eye-fucking your decoy. He started it! _

A few minutes later, he was hopping the zipline to the right of the Titanic-reenacting decoys-- _ nope, don’t fucking look at them, Park _ \--and dropping to the ground beneath the  _ Mirage Voy’age.  _

The ship was a giant clusterfuck of pure, unfiltered  _ Elliott-ness. _ After first spending a good hour thoroughly investigating the shit out of it and making sure it wasn’t bugged, Park decided it was a pretty cool place. The dancing holograms were a bit much, and you couldn’t hear a goddamn thing over the music and the holo fireworks when you tried to hunt someone down on it during a match, but it was a fun place to hang out after the Games were over for the day. The view was amazing. Especially if you liked people-watching.

Specifically, Elliott-watching.

Even more specifically, decoy-watching.

Boots on the ground, Park wandered over to the little cluster of rocks where Jee was hovering. Wedged between them was Elliott’s phone, screen still intact by some miracle of physics. Elliott had probably dropped it off the side of the ship. When Park picked it up, his thumb bumped the touchscreen, and a voicemail started to play.

No, not a voicemail, it was a one-sided conversation...because of course it was. Witt had a habit of hitting record when he didn’t mean to, and broadcasting all kinds of embarrassing personal shit all over the internet and the Frontier at large.

This was not embarrassing personal shit.

This was  _ heartbreaking _ personal shit.

When the unintentionally-recorded voice log finished playing, Park couldn’t breathe.

_ No. No no no. No! God, what the fuck, why-- _

He felt terrible, knowing Elliott and his mother were hundreds of thousands of miles apart and she was  _ forgetting who her son was. _

Then he remembered it was  _ his fault _ that Elliott was stuck on Talos in the first place, lightyears away from his mother -- his only family, Park was pretty sure -- as she was _ losing her memory. _

Then he punched a nearby rock so hard he could hear the bones in his hand snapping when they broke.

\--

“What tha hell is wrong witcha, Park? Ya been in my med bay wit injuries that din't come from a match twice in two months now. Ya need'ta take betta care of yourself, bredrin," Ajay scolded once she'd gotten his bones reconnected. "An' go easeh on dat hand, ya hear? Don't go an’ melee anymore rocks for a while, if ya can help it."

Park nodded, examining his bandaged hand. He flexed his fingers, made a fist. There was a dull ache, but it didn't hurt.

Before he could thank her, she snapped, "Ya welcome. But ya owe me one, Park, and I'm callin' in da favor right now."

_ Great. What now? _

"Yes?"

"I need a security system set up in med bay. Figured you'd be da best man fa the job. Been havin' some tings goin' missin' in the clinic. In fact, that's what nearly killed ya, after the prowler tried," she folded her arms. "Thought you might have an interest in makin' sure it don' happen again.

_ Oh. Okay. _

"Done. But I thought you said the blood drive went well..."

"It did. Now there's more missin', an' I just had the locks changed on the doors to the clinic! I need'ta find out what's happenin' in here when I'm not around, Park. You gon' help or nah?"

"Of course. Let me know when I should come by. It will not take long to install."

_ What the fuck? How is there more missing?! _

Two days later, med bay was set up with a better security system than money could buy, and the camera feed streamed right to one of the monitors on Park's desk.

He didn't know who could be behind it, and he didn't want to assume. He'd seen a LOT of Renee lately, and she didn't seem to be bitten. No way would she steal blood for that freak in the cave. Would Elliott steal it for himself?  _ Shit, maybe. _ If he was hungry and didn't want to ask for more, Park sort of suspected he might resort to something like that, if he were desperate enough.

Elliott had only survived the blood drive by pretending to faint. The second they entered Lifeline's clinic that day, Elliott's face was a mask of pure terror. He was being uncharacteristically quiet, and Park could tell from looking at him that the fangs had popped out the moment they entered. After a few frantic, panicked moments, they came up with a plan -- Elliott pretended to pass out and was allowed to return to restore his emergency blood supply the next day, by himself, without the scent of everyone else's blood around to torture him.

Renee had given blood to alongside everyone else, and seemed to be just fine. Park wasn't sure what to think about either of them -- her or Elliott -- when it came to the missing bloodbags. 

So he told neither Renee nor Elliott that the blood was still going missing. He didn't tell them about the new security system in medbay, either. He just waited, and watched. 

So far, nothing. 

\--

When it came to Evelyn and the holosuit schematics, Park told himself he was just doing it to learn something new, or because holotech could give him an advantage against the people trying to murder him  _ outside _ the arena. But deep down, Park knew he was absorbing everything he could about the holosuit because once that information left Evelyn’s mind, some of it might be gone forever. There were other holopilots in the Frontier, of course, and holo-tech was everywhere, so there was no shortage of competent holotech engineers in the Outlands, either. But Evelyn was a genius, and like her, Elliott’s holosuit was one-of-a-kind. Finding another person capable of maintaining and keeping it up to Evelyn's standards wouldn't be easy.

Imagining Elliott without a working holosuit made Tae Joon want to die inside, so he was doing whatever he could to learn its inner-workings. Even though it didn’t matter, because by the time something like that happened -- by the time Elliott needed someone to fix his holosuit, by the time his mother couldn’t anymore -- there was an excellent chance Park would be dead or otherwise absent from Elliott’s life, murdered or blown up or met with any of a large number of unpleasant potential fates at the hands of the Syndicate. So it really, truly, genuinely  _ did not fucking matter, _ except that learning how the suit worked made Park want to die inside a little bit less, because it helped him get close to Elliott’s favorite person. A person whose stunning brilliance wouldn’t be around forever.

Just thinking about it made Park want to...not-cry.

Once he knew about Evelyn’s condition, that was it. There was no question. She she was Elliott’s mom, she made him a fucking costume, and he was going to wear it whether it was covered in ridiculous evergreen trees and fucking Christmas lights or not. She'd also essentially given him the keys to the holosuit, and he was going to figure out every last fascinating detail, because the thought of letting her down made his allergies start acting up again.

The outfit was absolutely ridiculous, but he knew Elliott would love it. 

The green streaks in his hair were kind of cool, too.

\--

Later that night, after his hand was fixed  _ (thank you, Ajay) _ and he'd emailed Evelyn, he returned to the Boyfriend Boa-- _ the, uh, Mirage...ship, or whatever _ \--where he was supposed to meet Elliott for...dinner.

Elliott's dinner, anyway.

When he reached the upper deck, everything was quiet. The decoys were presumably back in their holo-emitters, sleeping off the eggnog. Elliott stood alone at the bow of the ship where those two hugging decoys usually stood yelling something about being ‘king of the world.’ His head was upturned, like he was stargazing, and it didn't seem like he'd heard Park approach, because he jumped and yelped a little when the hacker wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Hello beautiful,” Park murmured into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

When he pressed a soft kiss into the side of Elliott's neck, the trickster fucking  _ moaned. _

_ Oh, so that's how it is tonight, huh?  _

Park never ceased to be amazed by how much Elliott seemed to just... _ want _ him. All the time. Even when he was being a fucking monster, which he currently was, because it had been a strange, uncomfortably-emotional day for Park, and he just needed to  _ fuck something  _ and forget how fucking sad he was for a minute.

Park let his hand drift down between Elliott's thighs, and found that he was  _ already _ hard, straining against the holosuit like...like Park had done  _ more _ than just kiss him. It was kind of hot. The moment Park’s hand closed around Elliott’s bulge, the legend gasped out a soft little  _ "oh!" _ before reflexively thrusting into his boyfriend's grip, sighing sweetly and letting his head roll back onto Park's shoulder.

_ God, Elliott. What's got you so worked up tonight? You're so fucking hot when you get like this. _

"You've been such a naughty boy this year,  _ jagiya. _ If you keep looking so  _ fucking good _ in that holosuit, I'm going to have to bend you over this railing and teach you how to behave," Park growls into Elliott's shoulder, rolling his hips forward and letting Elliott feel his rapidly hardening dick.

Elliott gasps, hips jerking forward against Park's hand and back against his stiff cock. He’s whining and gasping and shuddering like he hasn’t been touched in  _ days, _ rutting back on Crypto’s painfully-hard dick and  _ begging _ for it.

_ "Mmm, oh! _ P-Please!"

Two seconds later, Park's slipping his hand into the front of the holosuit and squeezing Elliott's cock through his underwear. Elliott thrusts into Park’s palm, whimpering pathetically. Two seconds after that, Elliott's entire body tenses up, cock pulsing in the hacker's grip as he  _ cums in his pants _ with a needy little cry.

_ "Ah! Mmmph, Daddy!" _

_ Holy  _ ** _fuck,_ ** _ Elliott, what-- _

When he turns Elliott around, it only takes one look into his eyes for Park to realize it's  _ not _ Elliott. It's a decoy. The one that was giving him those embarrassed little glances from across the room earlier. Its eyes are wide and its mouth is open, still gasping and shuddering with aftershocks, its pretty face blushing fifty shades of red. 

Park has been bamboozled once again.

_ Oh fuck. _

The guilt is immediate, but that doesn't stop Park's dick from throbbing when he realizes which decoy it is. 

_ Forgive me, little one. I didn't know, I-- _

He barely has time to react, though, because a moment later, he hears footsteps approaching, and the shy little decoy disappears from his arms with a surprised little squeak. His hand -- which, a moment before, was sticky with cum that had leaked through the decoy's boxers -- is suddenly clean.

Elliott -- the real one -- appears behind him, grinning.

"There you are! I saw Jee floating around, but it wouldn't show me where you were, I looked all over!"

The trickster wraps his arms around him from behind and presses a tender kiss to the spot where Park's neck meets his shoulder. 

When he does, Park moans.

Elliott freezes for a second, then he chuckles against his neck, letting one of his hands drift down between the hacker's thighs. Park can’t help but thrust against the palm of Elliott’s hand.

_ "Damn, _ baby!” Elliott exclaims, squeezing his boyfriend’s throbbing dick and making him cry out a soft little  _ ‘please!’ _ “What's got you all worked up tonight?"

_ "You!" _

_ More than one of you, actually... _

\-----

Once Elliott's finished bending Park over the railing of the ship and teaching him how to behave, they retreat to the bedroom, for...dinner.

"Elliott,  _ nae sarang, _ please-- _ ah! _ \--p-please…" Park whimpers, grinding his hips forward a little. 

Both of his hands are bound together with a pair of holocuffs, which have been threaded through one of the metal bars of the bedframe's headboard, leaving Park unable to move his arms. He's flat on his back, with Elliott between his legs, forcing them further apart and teasing Park's inner thigh with his tongue and fingertips.

"Please, please…" Park moans softly.

_ God that is so fuckin' hot. So worked up just for me, all needy and hard again already, and so fucking beautiful-- _

_ "Ah!" _ his desperate lover cries out when he tongues the spot he knows Park's dying for him to sink his teeth into.

_ "Shhhh," _ Elliott soothes him, smoothing his palm up the inside of Park's thigh. "Be good, baby. You know I'll take care of you."

Park whimpers, trying to hold still even as he shudders with desire, gasping like he's trying to outrun the ring.

Elliott leans forward and licks the tender flesh of his thigh again, eliciting another pleading whine, the man's hips jerking involuntarily. Elliott gazes up at him through long, dark lashes, and when their eyes meet, the look on Park's face is absolutely  _ delicious. _

His brow is knotted in frustration, desperation, like he's going to cry if Elliott doesn't sink his teeth into him right-the-fuck-now. One of those pretty pink lips is caught between his teeth, his eyes are wide and he's giving Elliott a look of such shameless need that Elliott can't take it anymore. With a ragged growl, he buries his fangs in his boyfriend's tender flesh.

_ "Ssibal, ye! Nghhhfuck, _ oh  _ Elliott…" _

_ God, this is so hot. You'd think getting bitten feels  _ ** _good_ ** _ from the way he sounds, fuck. _

It  _ does _ feel good, Elliott will admit -- he's never had his thigh bitten, but when the monster in the cave pierced the side of his throat, the pain had been what made him cum. 

...he tries not to think about that fact very often, but it's a fact regardless. 

The decoy bites, though...those  _ hurt. _ Elliott wonders if it has something to do with venom. Perhaps vampire venom has a numbing agent that isn't present in the decoys' fangs…regardless, he's glad it hasn't happened in a while. He can't focus on that thought, though, or any thought other than--

_ Shit, baby, you taste so  _ ** _fucking_ ** _ good. _

He's pulled his teeth from the hacker's thigh so he can suck at the wound and lap up any blood that’s escaped his mouth. Park is squirming against his restraints, still moaning out desperate little pleas.

_ "Awww, _ I bet you wish you could touch your cock,  _ hmm?" _ Elliott teases, earning a tortured cry of affirmation from the beautiful legend bound beneath him. "It looks like it could use some attention…"

_ "Please, _ Elliott!"

Park's cock lies against his stomach, thick and throbbing, twitching with each swipe of Elliott's tongue against his wounded thigh. It's turned a pretty shade of dark red, and it's leaking out little pearls of desire all over Park's bare belly. His chest is heaving, entire body trembling as he shudders under Elliott’s wicked mouth.

The hand that isn't firmly gripping Park's leg comes up to wrap around his cock, and Elliott gives it a slow, gentle stroke, still sucking at the inside of his lover’s thigh.

_ "Mmnnnn!” _ Park whines, hips jerking as his back arches up off the bed.  _ “Fuck,  _ Elliott…"

Elliott gives him a devious look, pumping him faster and tonguing his thigh.

Park is fucking  _ whimpering, _ and Elliott doesn't have a clue what's got him so hot and bothered tonight but he doesn't care, it's fucking intoxicating, seeing Park like this. He's always cool, calm and collected. He's unflappable, un-flusterable, and damn hard to read. Nearly-impossible to get a reaction out of, most of the time. Watching the mysterious new legend -- who is now his mysterious new  _ boyfriend _ \-- lose control like this is fucking  _ hot. _ Park is the kind of guy who doesn't need anyone's help, or ask for it, ever. Having the gorgeous hacker bound to his bed like this is exhilarating. Hyeon’s cock is hard and throbbing as he lies there helpless, squirming and whimpering and  _ begging _ for it, begging Elliott to make it better, to make him cum... _ fuck, _ how could he ever deny something so unbelievably beautiful?

Elliott pulls back from his thigh, still giving Park's throbbing dick languid, teasing strokes. Park all but sobs when Elliott licks his cock from base to tip, sucking at the head for a moment before returning his mouth to Park's thigh, still stroking the hacker’s cock with his slick hand.

"Please!" the gorgeous man beneath him cries, thrusting up into his grip and straining against the holocuffs.  _ "Jebal _ Elliott,  _ nae sarang, _ p-please, I need--please let me--"

"You want to cum for me, sugar?" Elliott purrs deviously, pulling back from Park's thigh to lick his lips clean. "You want me to make it all better?"

Park nods his head furiously, shuddering with need and giving Elliott one of the most desperate looks he's ever seen on the man's face.

_ "Please!” _ Park sobs out, back arching up off the bed again as he twists against his restraints.  _ ”Jagi, please  _ m-make me cum, I’m so close,  _ fuck..." _

_ It is so fuckin' hot when you beg like that, sugar. So shameless.  _

_ "Shit, _ baby,” Elliott growls, pumping him faster. “You keep looking that good tied up and I'm gonna end up fuckin'  _ wrecking _ that tight little ass again, god  _ damn…" _

Park wails.

"Elliott,  _ jebal!" _

Elliott shifts a little bit, leaning forward to put his mouth on Hyeon’s needy cock, but before he can, his right knee bumps something in Park's coat, which lies forgotten on the floor beneath his knees. 

Several things happen at once.

First, a sphere of energy suddenly forms around them, surrounding the entire bed and making Elliott's hair stand on end.

Then he hears a familiar sound, shortly followed by a familiar sensation: being tazed.

Wait, no. EMP'd.

_ Whoops. _

Elliott's muscles all spasm out of his control, and just when he's beginning to worry he might be squeezing Park's cock a bit too hard, the man lets out the most filthy, wanton sound Elliott has  _ ever _ heard him make and immediately cums all over himself, cock spurting jets of his seed over Elliott's fingers and onto Park’s own belly as he whines with each involuntary muscle spasm.

_ “Ah! Ah! Mmnnngh _ , Elliot,  _ fuck!” _ he sobs, eyes rolling back into his head.

When the electrical impulses finally cease and the muscle spasms begin to fade, Elliott glances at his boyfriend, who is still flat on his back, eyes closed, his chest heaving as he gasps to catch his breath. The hacker's thigh is stained with his own blood, abdomen painted with his orgasm, lips pink and swollen from biting them, entire body still shuddering with aftershocks as he whimpers softly.

_ Fuck, baby. _

"God, sweetheart. You have no idea how fuckin' good you look right now,” Elliott groans, eyes roving over Park's lithe, toned, trembling body.  _ “Fuck,  _ you're beautiful. You are so fuckin' beautiful..."

The hacker is beginning to come back down to earth, and his cheeks suddenly go quite pink as the high of orgasm fades, and he realizes what caused it.

"Baby, do you...do you  _ like _ being EMP'd?" Elliott asks cautiously, hoping the question doesn't sound judgemental. 

He's  _ not _ judging. It's fucking  _ hot. _ Also, Elliott once fucked a pumpkin, so...yeah, he has no room to judge.

Park stares at the ceiling.

"Well if that's the case," Elliott says, leaning forward and dragging two fingers through the cum splattered across Park's abs, then bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. "Then I'm  _ all _ for it.  _ Fuck, _ darlin', whatever just happened, whatever made you cum like that, I need to know what it is, so I can keep doing it. 'Cause baby, you look  _ so fucking good  _ like this, I  _ have _ to see it happen again…"

Eyes following Elliott's fingers as he brings them to his mouth, Park is blushing even deeper when he softly murmurs, "Yes. I...yes. I like it."

Elliott grins, sucking his fingers obscenely.

"Well then let's get this gorgeous body cleaned up and then you can show me how it works, so I don't accidentally trigger it while we're in public," the trickster says, winking as he reaches for a little remote and presses a button on it, de-manifesting the holocuffs and freeing his boyfriend's arms.

Park covers his face with his hands, laughing.

  
  


\------

  
  


“Fuck, are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Are you positive? Like, she wasn’t drunk, or like...I don’t know--”

“I could only hear his side of the conversation. How many bottles of wine do you think it would take to make Evelyn Witt suddenly forget her only surviving son’s first name as she’s on the phone with him, Renee?” he snapped, promptly feeling like an asshole. “Sorry, that came out...sorry.”

“No, you’re right. God, that is  _ so _ fucked up,” Renee’s voice had gone up a few octaves, sounding almost as strained as Elliott’s had while he spoke to his mother on the phone. “What about his dad?”

Park shrugged. “No idea. Doesn’t seem like he’s in the picture. I...haven’t asked.”

All he’d ever heard Elliott say about the man was that he missed him, a random little interjection in one of those ridiculous Winter Express recordings that sort of came out of nowhere. Park wasn’t sure if it was the kind of missing you did when someone was dead, or when they were an absentee father, or when they lived on the other side of the galaxy. Regardless, Park found he wanted to punch the man in the face for leaving Elliott to deal with this alone, whatever the reason for his absence from Elliott’s life. 

However, Park was kind of afraid that finding out the answer to the Dad question would be what finally snapped his fucking heart in two...so he didn't ask, and didn't plan to.

“Yeah,” Renee nodded, gazing at Elliott, who was out of earshot, juggling bottles of champagne with one of his decoys. “I don’t blame you. God, and I thought  _ my _ life was fucked up.”

Park huffed out a mirthless little laugh. 

_ Yeah, me too. Turns out I’m an idiot. Again.  _

Wraith sighs, and Park can hear the anxiety just from the sound of her breathing.

“That sucks so fucking much. Shit.”

“Yes,” Park nods miserably, heart aching as he watches Elliott throw an arm around his twin, taking a bow. “It does.”

“Fuck me,” Renee says, sighing again and covering her eyes with a gloved hand.

_ Name the time and place, beautiful. _

“That is so messed up.”

_ Oh. ‘Fuck me’ figuratively. Right. _

_ Dammit. _

Renee’s right, though. It’s fucked. Elliott’s whole life is fucked. You couldn’t find a more fucked-up life story if you tried.

_ Not even on that stupid Game of Crowns show, or whatever the fuck it’s called. Throne of Crowns? Something like that. _

_ Elliott Witt has the saddest fucking life story in the whole damn Frontier. It is known. _

_ See? I’m paying attention. _

\------

“Did you just call them  _ ice walkers?” _ Elliott bursts into a fit of giggles. “You are  _ so _ not paying attention.”

Park groans.

“I am _ trying  _ to pay attention. Someone keeps talking through every scene where there the actors have their clothes on,  _ Elliott.” _

Elliott just giggles again, snuggling into the couch a little more. The  _ Mirage Voy’age _ is a lot less obnoxious at night, when it’s just the two of them curled up under a blanket on the couch, watching TV. It’s almost like having their own place. 

Not that Park is -- or would  _ ever _ be -- thinking about that kind of thing.

It’s fun to pretend, though. Pretend it’s their ship, and their couch, and their living room, and their giant holoscreen...instead of the Syndicate’s.

“So does this Ramsay asshole ever get what he deserves?”

“Oh yeah,” Elliott grins. “Just wait! We’re getting to the good part!”

“You have said that every single episode, for at least the last five.”

“Well, it’s true!” Elliott pouts at him. “It’s good if you  _ pay attention!” _

Park yanks Elliott onto his lap, nuzzling his shoulder and grinning when the trickster squeals and squirms a little bit.

“I’m still trying to figure out who Winter is,” Park purrs against the back of his neck, slipping a synthetic-skinned hand up the inside of Elliott’s bare thigh and squeezing him through his underwear. “And when she’s cumming.”

_ “Babe!” _

\--------

  
  


Renee was doing her best to pretend Thanksgiving night -- and the morning after it -- had never happened. It was just easier that way. For everyone. 

The problem was that now she’d seen Elliott’s boyfriend with his shirt off...with, well,  _ everything _ off, almost. And regrettably, she had discovered that Park was  _ hot. _ This was further complicated by the fact that now, every time she visited her friend in the cave, all she could think about was what that pretty purple skin looked like underneath the coat, vest and shirt. 

...and the stupid pants.

Pretending it didn’t happen was the only way she could deal with even being in the same room as Elliott’s boyfriend, especially now that she was aware of how  _ filthy _ his mouth was in bed. She was pretty sure she’d never heard the man let even one curse word slip out of his mouth before, even in a match, but in her head, she could still hear him groaning  _ “Is this how you want me to  _ ** _fuck_ ** _ you?” _

The mental image that hearing them together had put in her head had been haunting her ever since. She felt guilty for having heard them in the first place, even though it wasn’t her fault. 

She felt guilty because the thought of them fucking was hot, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Then the next morning, after she’d heard them fuck...the way Park had looked at her was obscene.

_ Jesus, Park, stare much? Take a holograph, it’ll last longer. _

But deep down, she’d _ liked  _ it. Shit, she’d  _ loved _ the way he looked at her. Even worse, when she thought about the  _ vampire  _ looking at her that way, the way Park had in that hallway the morning after Thanksgiving, biting his lip and scanning her from head to toe with his optical implant, well...

It was better for all involved if she just didn’t think about it. 

Especially because she was going to need to bring her friend in the cave some dinner again soon, and this time, she was on the menu.

He hadn’t touched her since the night he licked the blood out of her hand-- _ fuck, that was amazing _ \--but he was on the last of the blood bags she’d brought him in November, and he was going to need to feed soon. Remembering how fucking  _ good _ that warm tongue had felt dragging over the palm of her hand gave her heart palpitations, so she tried not to think about that, either.

It was the only way to get through those fucking Winter Express matches. The Syndicate’s little gift to all the legends was getting to select their squadmates instead of being subject to the RNG squad selection like in a regular match. So naturally, Elliott had wanted to squad up with her and Park every single time, and neither of them had the heart to deny him, apparently, because he was so goddamn excited over his insane Christmas event.

“How the  _ fuck _ do you kill someone with this thing, Park? I’ve met BB guns that were scarier,” she grumbles.

Her loadout is  _ trash _ today. Longbow with the worst sniper scope in the game and a fucking P2020.

“You don’t miss any shots,” Park replies without looking at her.

_ ‘Oooooh I’m Crypto, I don’t miss any shots,’ _ she barely resists saying out loud in a mocking, juvenile tone.

Park is crouched across from her in the caboose of the Winter Express, eye-fucking that weird green display that projects from his weird robot eyeball, as he almost always is. 

_ When he’s not eye-fucking me... _

_ Ugh! Don’t think about it! _

“Right, that’s what I mean,” she snaps, grateful to have thought of a stinging comeback so fast. “If you can’t miss any shots, how do  _ you  _ ever get any kills with it?”

He glares at her through his AR overlay.

_ Ahaha, made you look. Again. _

She glances out the doorway, looking towards the front of the train, where she can see the shy decoy cowering in a corner behind a box in the middle car. She’s pretty sure it was crying at the last stop. 

_ Poor little thing. He looks like he could use a hug. _

_ Bet he could also use a kiss, and--NOPE. Not today, Brain. Not today. _

Standing on the roof of the front car is Elliott, humming another obnoxious Christmas tune and wearing those stupid fucking Nutcracker pants...or whatever they are. Man-leggings, or something. 

_ Fuck me, those things should  _ ** _not_ ** _ be allowed in the ring. I thought your mom said this outfit wasn’t revealing! _

“Next stop comin’ up!” Elliott calls from the front car. I’ll keep an eye out up here, you guys defend the caboose,” 

_ I’ll defend your caboose any day--WOW, Renee. Just...just wow. _

Before she can scold herself further, the train slows, and she hears a pair of metal feet landing on the roof. 

_ Path or Octane. Shit. _

“We got an interloper up top,” Renee whispers into the comms. 

She hears gunfire outside the train. Park tosses Jee into the air and sends it gliding out of the train car and up over the station they’ve stopped at, the one at the mouth of a tunnel, near snow-covered cliffs that are ideal for snowball fights and sniping.

If you don’t have that god-awful blue scope, of course. If you do, you're better off sticking with snowballs, anyway.

Elliott's flatline is firing away, then it stops.

“Got ‘im!” Elliott yells. “Grapple with that, beyotch!” 

Renee hears Pathfinder’s metal frame come crashing down on the roof of the traincar she’s hiding in.

“Get inside a car,” Renee urges him over the comms. “You’re gonna get sniped! Let’s make them think we got left at the last stop.

“Roger that!” the trickster chirps back. A moment later, she hears him jump to the ground.

“Dome shield to our left,” Park says. It sounds odd, because she’s hearing him speak from across the car at the same time she hears him in her earpiece.

“I got it.  _ Dude, _ get your ass over here,” Elliott snaps. 

It takes Renee a moment to realize he’s talking to his decoy, not his boyfriend. 

The poor thing timidly steps out from its hiding place and Renee definitely does  _ not  _ check out its adorable little butt in those absurdly-revealing Nutcracker pants as it walks into the first train car with Elliott.

“We got this handled up front, my ultimate is ready,” the trickster crackles through her earpiece. 

Being in the vicinity of that stupid EMP makes the radios go all staticky. It’s fucking annoying.

Suddenly she’s being yanked across the aisle by her wrist a split second before a flurry of spitfire rounds pepper the wall where she was just crouching. That’s even more annoying, because it means Park was  _ right _ to yank her out of the way. Still, she wrenches her arm back immediately and glares at him.

They’re shoulder-to-shoulder, both pressed against the wall of the caboose, listening. Park pulls up his AR interface again -- it’s...actually kind of neat, she’s never seen it up close like this before -- then he leans over and murmurs  _ “the soldier” _ in her ear. A split second later, she sees a glowing, orange figure running towards them when Park’s drone detects the enemy. Before either of them can react, though, the entire train car explodes into a thick cloud of smoke.

“I got her,” Renee whispers to Park.

He nods, and she silently steps out of the car, slipping around the outside before pulling herself up onto the roof. Renee still has her longbow in her hands (because she’s an idiot) with that terrible 6X scope, and she doesn’t have a chance to rip it off or switch to her (even more-terrible) close-range weapon before Bangalore has pulled herself up onto the roof as well. She’s got a peacekeeper.

_ Shit. _

"Sorry, princess," Anita says with a grin, raising the shotgun. "It's a man's world out here."

Renee phases through the gunfire and just barely misses getting hit. By some miracle, the hip-fired, barely-aimed bullet that comes out of her longbow actually hits Bangalore right between the eyes, and she must already be hurt, because she’s dead instantly.

_ Well alright. Word. _

_ Sorry, princess. _

“I’m dead, but I got Gibby, at least,” Elliott says in her earpiece, groaning in pain. “Somebody just  _ wrecked _ me though, dunno who it was. C'mon guys, it’s all you!” 

_ Huh, we might actually win this. _

Then she hears heavy footfalls, and the car below her -- the one Park is still hiding in, the one that’s  _ still _ full of Bangalore’s smoke -- explodes into a thick cloud of  _ gas. _

_ Oh, nevermind. We’re fucked.  _

She can hear Park coughing, and actually feels bad for him because Nox’s gas fucking  _ hurts. _ So do his fists when he finishes you. The pepper spray is the worst though.

“We meet again, Park,” she hears the creep say.

When she jumps down from the roof, she has to run away from the car Park is trapped in because of the gas. From the middle car, she can see Nox has Park up against the wall, and is being particularly dickish, squeezing an enormous hand around Park’s pretty throa-- _ NOPE _ \--ahem...around Park’s  _ stupid neck, _ and undoubtedly saying some more creepy shit.

It looks like it hurts. She’s not sure she can hit a hip-fired longbow shot at this distance but she’s not far enough away for that  _ stupid fucking scope  _ to help either,  _ god dammit. _

_ Fuck it. Park, you better say your prayers. _

“Hey creepshow!” she yells in their direction. “I don’t think Elliott would appreciate you getting so handsy with his boytoy.”

She’s pretty sure oxygen deprivation isn’t the only thing making Park’s face go all red, because it’s still red when Nox releases him, and both men turn to look at Renee.

“That’s not very nice, Renee,” Nox growls with a smile. “I thought we were friends.”

As much as she wants to slip into the Void, she needs Nox to come closer if the stupid fucking toy gun Park seems to love so much is going to do any damage at all. She stands her ground and tries to look more confident than she feels.

_ Get the fuck up here and help me kick his ass, Park! _

When she glances at the caboose, he’s not there anymore. She hears someone using a shield cell somewhere nearby. 

_ You little chicken shit. _

“Friends?” she says, giving the mad scientist a coy little smile.

Nox is in front of her now, and he’s seen her pathetic excuse for a weapon, so he hasn’t aimed his devotion at her yet. He’s getting cocky.

_ Good. _

“I don’t do friends. Don’t play well with others,” she says darkly, stalling for time and hoping Park will _ fucking do something. _

“Really? Your little boyfriends seem to want to play with you often, both inside  _ and _ outside the ring,” Nox replies with a deviant grin. “Thought I heard Mr. Witt saying something about--oh, how did he put it? Ah, yes. I believe  _ ‘Mirage-a-Trois’ _ were the words he used to describe what he wants for Christmas. I’m not sure if he was referring to you and one of his holograms, or you and Park...”

_ Jesus fucking Christ, Elliott.  _

_ Do you have  _ ** _any_ ** _ chill? No? None? _

Instead of replying, Renee snaps into the Void, trying not to let her brain start painting a picture to go along with Caustic’s words. 

She appears behind the scientist, leaning forward and murmuring, “Yeah, I bet you can’t stop thinking about it, Nox. Try not to give yourself carpal tunnel,” before meleeing him in the back of the head. 

He stumbles forward, and before he can even turn around, she fires what feels like ten shots into the back of his head.

She didn’t miss any, and it was kind of cool how fast the stupid little gun could fire, but it still wasn’t enough to fully finish off Nox. He was down on one knee, about to rise back up on both feet and probably pepper spray her, which was something he seemed to enjoy doing.

_ Where the  _ ** _fuck_ ** _ are you, Park? _

She hears a syringe being used. 

_ Seriously?! Dude, get your ass over here! _

“You monologue too much, Nox,” she seethes as he goes to turn around.

Thinking fast, she flings her only remaining arc star at the man, hitting him in the back of the head at the same instant Park’s drone electrocutes both of them. Nox goes down.

_ Oh, NOW you’re gonna help? Gee, thanks. _

“We have our winner,” echoes the recording of Elliott’s voice. “By a  _ lot.” _

She can’t focus on that, though, or the real Elliott squealing,  _ “Meet me at the ship--my ship, the cool one, not the dropship, obviously--we’re partying tonight! Fireworks! Pizza! Eggnog so strong I think it’s technically considered a chemical weapon! Last one there's an FNG!”  _ in her earpiece.

_ Guess Park will be arriving last, then. _

She can’t focus on the thought, however -- she can’t focus on anything, because she’s still writhing on the floor of the train’s middle car, every muscle in her body spasming involuntarily and forcing a ridiculous, embarrassing sound from her lungs. Once the EMP is done with her and her muscles are under her own control again, she opens her eyes to see Park standing over her, smirking in a way that makes her wonder if he hit her with the EMP on purpose.

If he did, she may have deserved it for punching him into a jump pad earlier in the match, launching him so high in the sky, she almost thought he was gone for good.

_ No such luck, unfortunately. _

Park reaches out with one of those strange hands of his, and she’s suddenly reminded of the first night she’d met the vampire, when he’d politely helped her up after he’d tried to eat her and after the Voidless Place had wrecked her shit. The difference is that, despite being terrified of the vampire at the time, she hadn’t wanted to punch his face nearly as much as she wants to punch Park’s right now. He looks so damn  _ smug, _ she’s absolutely positive now that he EMP’d her on purpose. 

Still, she takes his hand, because her muscles are twitchy from the electromagnetic pulse, and she’s shaking a little bit from it, too. When he pulls her into a standing position, suddenly they are  _ far _ too close to each other. She should probably step back, but instead she stands there, looking up at him like a goddamn idiot.

_ Has he always been so tall? _

“Your outfit is ridiculous,” she says gazing down at his vest so she doesn’t have to look at his beautiful face.

_ I like the green streaks in your hair. _

“How did you get your synthetics that color?” she asks, squinting at the shiny, teal appearance of the synthetic skin covering his throat.

“It can be programmed to display any color, and many different patterns.”

“You can  _ edit your skin?” _

“I can, yes.”

_ That is so fucking cool. _

“That is so fucking weird,” she says, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. 

She only wants to touch it in the first place to see if it feels any different from the vampire’s gilded synthetic skin. It’s just...curiosity. Nothing more. Although they’re still standing way too close together and her hand is still clasped in his, even though he’s long since finished helping her up. For some reason, he doesn’t seem as flustered or embarrassed-slash-terrified as he did when they’d bumped into each other in the hall at Elliott’s mom’s place.

The mischievous look that’s currently on his face is so different from the embarrassed, ashamed one he’d worn when she caught him staring at her ass the morning after Thanksgiving. He had looked absolutely  _ mortified _ then, now he just looks smug as fuck.

“You’re an excellent shot, Renee,” he murmurs quietly, gaze drifting down her body but quickly snapping back to her face. “Didn’t miss a single one.”

“Did you expect me to?” she raises an eyebrow.

Park chuckles, “No, of course not. I am attempting to give you a compliment.”

_ Oh. _

“Yeah well, you’re just lucky I was around to defend your caboose,” she grumbles.

Park is laughing again, and it occurs to her that she likes the sound. It’s cute.

_ NO IT’S NOT. _

Before anything stupid can happen, Renee retrieves her hand and her sanity, taking a few steps back and putting a good deal of space between them.

“We should, uh, p-probably get going, head toward the  _ Mirage Voy’age, _ it’s a bit of a trek,” she says, staring at the snow beneath her feet, and ignoring the fact that she could easily get there instantly via the Void and her portals.

For some reason, she’d rather walk.

With Park.

\------

_ “Ow!”  _ Park groans as he’s hit squarely in the back of the head with a snowball.

He hears Renee giggle, then she headshots him with another one.

“Must you do that? It is very distracting,” Park says, rubbing the back of his head.

_ Mostly you. You are the distracting part. _

“Then don’t put a fucking Christmas tree on the back of your head, dude.  _ ‘It is very distracting,’” _ she giggles, imitating him. “It’s also the perfect target!”

Park leans down, packing together some snow.

“You’re about to start something you might not be able to finish, Renee,” he says, grinning.

_ Wish you’d finish me, fuck. _

\----

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” she shoots back.

Park meets her gaze, looking almost as mischievous as Elliott when he says, “A snowball fight.”

Then he sends the snowball sailing towards her face, and she phase-shifts to avoid being hit.

“That’s cheating,” he says once she’s back in their dimension. “And now your tactical needs to recharge.”

He winks, and there’s a brief pause. Then he runs for her with another snowball in his hand, which is raised in a threatening manner.

“EEEEEEEE NOOOOOOO!!” Renee squeals, sliding down a snowy hill to get away from him. He follows, and they both land in a pile at the bottom, breathless and giggling.

She lands first, flat on her back at the bottom of the hill. She can’t use her armband to escape (being in the ring nerfed everyone’s powers to death, some bullshit about “balance” and “even playing field” and “Wraith is OP”), so she has to roll over on her side to avoid Park landing on her when he comes sliding down the hill a half-second later.

When she rolls back, they’re side by side, and now her left shoulder is lying sort of on top of his right. She is definitely planning to move, but she’s out of breath, and for some unbelievably idiotic reason, it feels nice to lie there in the snow with Park, looking up at the sky together.

It’s because she’s just won a match, she’s pretty sure. It just feels good to lie down and look at Talos’s beautiful sky. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, if either of them shifts and rolls over just a little bit, they’ll be spooning. It also has absolutely nothing to do with the smooth, synthetic-skinned hand that’s suddenly stroking her left shoulder, nor the fact that noticing it makes her wish she was wearing something sleeveless, even in the cold, just so she could feel that weird cybernetic skin sliding over her own.

_ What are you doing, Renee? _

_ Fuck off, Brain. I’ll deal with you later… _

“Elliott said...he said I may--he gave me permission to--” Park seems like he can’t figure out what he wants to say. “Nevermind.”

Renee just giggles, because she can’t stop doing that all of a sudden. She kind of wonders what he was going to say, but she hates when people press her to say something she’s suddenly thought better of mentioning, so if he doesn’t want to repeat himself, she’s not going to make him.

“You played well today, Renee,” he says softly, voice going back to the calm, deep, delic-- _ NOPE _ \--erm... _ dumb _ tone he usually speaks in. “You always do.”

For some reason, this makes her blush, and she's grateful that he can’t see her face in their current position.

“And thank you,” he continues, “for getting Nox off of me.”

Her eyes widen for a second.

_ He knows Caustic’s real identity, too.  _

_ Dunno why I’m surprised. Hmm. _

“Sure thing,” she replies. “It’s so weird that he always goes right for your neck. That’s like the fifth time I’ve seen him do that to you.”

She can feel Park shift beneath her, rubbing at his gorgeous-- _ godFUCKINGdammit, Brain! _ \--uh sorry,  _ beautiful fucking neck. _

“Yes, he seems to...particularly enjoy choking me. Even more than you do." She can tell from the sound of his voice, Park is grinning as he says it.

Renee feels her cheeks burning.

_ God, why does he smell so good? _

_ I gotta say, Elliott does have good taste.  _

_ Fuck. _

\---

For a time, they both just lie there silently, looking at the sky, listening to each other breathe, and feeling each other’s warmth -- even through their clothes -- everywhere their bodies touch.

Renee sighs contentedly after a few moments, and then -- against all that is good and just in the universe -- she drags herself up into a sitting position, away from the soft warmth of Park’s chest. He jumps to his feet to help her up, and for the second time that day, she actually lets him.

Then he stuffs the snowball down the back of her scarf.

“YOU FUCKER!” she screeches, flailing as she tries to shake out her scarf and looking adorable as she does. 

She’s giggling again, though. Park decides it’s a nice sound, one he'd like to hear more of.

\-------

"Friends, family, people who fuck--uh, I mean  _ fight  _ each other, the official Apex Games Christmas party has com--commenc--uh,  _ started. _ Woo! Careful with that eggnog, ladies. Shit is STRONG," Elliott yells into the microphone before handing it back to DJ Stim.

“Are we ready for some jams,  _ amigos? ¡Vamos a hacerlo!” _

Silva stands at the DJ booth, surrounded by speakers, wearing a very revealing Santa outfit from the neck down. From the neck up, he’s wearing a giant circular mask with a wide smile and orb-like eyes, and two huge, round mouse ears sticking out of either side. Park is vaguely reminded of the album artwork for a song Elliott listens to frequently. Park doesn’t know the name of it because when he asked Elliott, he was busy talking about a dead mouse for some reason, and then he said the song was called “Uhhhhh, Ghosts ‘N Stuff.”

Despite the ridiculous stimmed-up DJ and the ridiculous music and the ridiculous fireworks and that  _ insane _ eggnog again-- _ fuck, don’t do it, Park _ \--despite all of that, Crypto is finding himself in high spirits. Maybe because Renee actually let him  _ touch _ her earlier and giggled and stayed there on the frozen ground, practically laying on him while he stroked her shoulder...instead of punching him squarely in the face, which was what he’d expected.

She looks pretty fucking cute in that Wreath outfit. Natalie had screamed with glee when she heard Wraith had named it a pun. Park is starting to wonder if Natalie had anything to do with the Santa “Claustic” over there, who is currently standing by the refreshments, refilling that extremely-potent eggnog. Wattson’s dressed as an elf, and he’s Santa... _ ugh, gross. _

Interestingly, it turned out that Wraith’s Wreath outfit was another Evelyn Witt Original, just like Park’s own.

“I meant to say it earlier but I was busy getting wrecked by Gibby -- you guys both look so adorable!!!” Elliott squeals, beaming at the both of them. “I love your outfits! Did you match them on purpose, or--”

** _“NO!”_ ** Renee and Park shout in unison, a little too loudly.

“Uh, no,” Renee continues more softly. “Your mom made them for us. Mailed ‘em to us on the ship. I thanked her like, a million times. She’s so cool.”

The trickster looks like he’s tearing up a little. Once Renee has warped over to the bar for some refreshments, Elliott collects himself and drags Park into a hug -- right in front of everyone on the upper deck of the ship, should they wish to look. 

And Park lets him. 

_ Fuck it. Everyone already knows anyway. _

“You look so cuuuuuuute!” Elliott squeals after releasing him. “I can’t believe you wore it!”

“Of course I wore it, it’s a gift from your mother,” Park replies flatly.

“Yeah, but it’s also covered in little Christmas trees and string lights, it looks like an ugly Christmas sweater threw up on you. I  _ love _ it. This is so excitiiiiiiing! I love Christmas. I love parties!” Elliott’s already tipsy and rambling, but it’s fucking adorable.

“And I  _ love _ the way your synthetics look, oh my god,” he continues, reaching out to stroke the blueish-green artificial skin that lines Park’s jaw and throat, gazing at it with fascination.

“It's so  _ pretty.  _ How did you do this?” Elliott looks fascinated as he asks, fingers drifting from Park’s jaw up to his ears. Park blushes.

“I just programmed it to display a different color.”

“You can  _ do _ that?! Like, all the time?!” Elliott’s jaw drops when Park nods. “Then why do you wear the same black stuff every day? You could change your skin to match all your outfits!”

Park chuckles, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I wear the same thing almost every day.”

Elliott rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, what color would you prefer?”

Elliott’s eyes go wide.

“Nonononono, that’s not--I don’t have a preference!” Elliott stammers nervously. “I just mean, like, this is  _ hot,” _ he strokes the skin over Park’s Adam’s apple, “and if you’re ever in the mood to switch it up, you should pick something you like! I was just saying that it’s so cool looking, whatever color you pick will look great! I don’t know, I’m--”

“Elliott,” Park stops him, laughing a little bit. “I know what you mean.”

There’s a familiar buzzing sound over their heads -- Jee has come to hover above them.

Someone has tied mistletoe to it again.

Park and Elliott both look up, then at each other. Elliott’s eyes are wide, he seems anxious.

“W-we don’t have to--I know you’re not really a fan of PDA. And that’s t-totally cool! We don’t--”

The trickster is cut off when Park silences Elliott’s mouth with his own, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Elliott sighs into the kiss, melting into him and letting him take whatever he wants. 

And right now, for some reason, Park fucking  _ wants. _

He brings a hand up to hold the back of Elliott’s neck as the other circles around his waist, pulling him in closer. Elliott whines. Park isn’t being chaste, or gentle, or soft. He’s being rough and possessive, desperate. Suddenly he doesn’t give a  _ fuck _ who sees him plundering Elliott’s soft, pliant mouth. 

_ Let them watch, I don’t care. _

Elliott sighs, moaning into him when he deepens the kiss. Park is licking into his boyfriend’s sweet mouth and making him shudder and it is taking all of the hacker’s quickly-dwindling self-control not to let the hand around the famous legend’s pretty neck drift down between the man’s thighs. He can already feel Elliott’s thick cock, hard and pressing insistently into his hip.

Park breaks this kiss to lean forward and murmur into Elliott’s ear.

“I’d fuck you right here, in front of everyone, Elliott. Show them who you belong to,” he growls, hot breath puffing against the trickster’s neck. “Show them all the pretty sounds you make for me.”

_ And maybe Renee would be watching… _

Elliott whimpers, cock throbbing at Park’s words. Tae Joon can’t resist tasting those pretty lips again, and he groans at how easily he has the famous, gorgeous legend moaning into his mouth, grinding his aching cock desperately against Park’s hip, completely unconcerned with the fact that people could be  _ watching. _

But they have to breathe eventually, and they  _ probably _ shouldn’t fuck in front of everyone on the ship, so they finally pull back for air. Park doesn’t  _ want _ to stop, but they have to. For now.

When Park looks up, Renee _ is _ watching. Her eyes widen when she sees she’s been caught, but she doesn’t look away, either.

“Have you been a good boy this year, Elliott?” Park purrs in Elliott’s ear, with his eyes still locked on Renee’s.

Elliott whimpers in the affirmative.

“Then you deserve a reward,” he murmurs, dragging his lips up the shell of his boyfriend’s ear and still eyeing Renee, who hasn’t yet managed to retrieve her jaw from the floor. 

“I’m going to fuck you until you cry tonight,  _ jagi,” _ he continues speaking low enough that only Elliott can hear, “I’m going to make you  _ beg. _ If you keep being good, though, I’ll give you whatever you want.  _ Anything. _ Even a...what did you call it?  _ 'Mirage-a-trois.'” _

Elliott shudders, making a needy little noise into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Park winks at Renee, who is making a face like that shy little decoy did when he’d squeezed his dick and eye-fucked it the other night. She looks like she’s so mortified she wants to move, but she can’t. Because she  _ wants it. _ On some level, even if she’s only interested in Elliott, or only interested in watching him  _ fuck  _ Elliott, she wants it. She can’t hear what he’s saying, of course, but that almost makes it better, forcing her use her imagination.

Park’s eyes stay on hers when he grips the trickster’s chin, turning the man’s head to the side and dragging his tongue up the side of his boyfriend’s pretty neck. Renee’s face is redder than Park has ever seen it, even when she was drunk and wearing blush on Thanksgiving. 

Still staring at her, Park sinks his teeth into the side of Elliott’s throat, making him moan loud enough that Renee  _ definitely _ hears it.

She’s biting her lip, unable to maintain direct eye contact for long but unable to look away, either. Feeling particularly brave, Park lifts his head from Elliott’s neck and licks his lips just like he had when he’d caught the shy decoy staring before.

_ Come on, beautiful. Come play with us. _

_ Shit, come play with  _ ** _him._ ** _ _

_ Just let me watch you, please... _

Renee disappears from the upper deck of the ship in a streak of blue light.

_ Shit.  _

\--

Renee snaps into the Void, finding herself just as breathless as she'd been the night she heard Park fucking Elliott less than three feet from her bed. This time was even more blatant, and there was no alcohol in anyone's system to blame it on. He'd looked her dead in the eyes with one hand gripping Elliott's jaw,  _ licked his fucking neck, _ and then proceeded to  _ bite _ his fucking neck before pulling back, still staring at her, to lick his own lips.

_ Oh my god. Fuck, that was hot. _

Park is  _ gorgeous. _ She fucking hates admitting it, but she can't lie to herself anymore. He’s hot.  _ Fuck, _ the look in his eyes as he watched her, as he dragged his tongue up the side of Elliott's neck and sank his teeth in, making Elliott  _ moan… _ it makes her want that mouth all over  _ her _ neck instead. 

It also makes her think about the vampire and how his mouth will feel when it pierces her skin, because it’s going to -- very soon.

_ Fuck... _

She’s very curious what exactly Park had been murmuring in Elliott's ear as he looked at her with lust burning in those gorgeous, dark eyes. It was undoubtedly filthy, whatever it was, and she only cares to know because it had made Elliott blush so deeply. She can't say why, exactly, but she wants Park to want her, too. She wants him to look at her and like what he sees, wants him to want to  _ touch  _ what he sees, wants his artificially-enhanced hands all over her. 

She wants to feel that synthetic skin against her human flesh.

_ Fuck! _

Part of why she wants all those things is because Park looks like the vampire (well, close enough), and seeing him licking and sucking and  _ biting _ Elliott's throat with that sinful look in his eyes had her aching to feel the vampire's teeth in her own throat instead.

But it also reminds her that her friend in the cave can see and hear through Elliott's eyes, and there is  _ no way  _ Elliott's thoughts or mouth will be able to shut the fuck up, ever, but especially during a threesome. The poor creature already has to hear Elliott fuck someone who sounds and looks just like him, but isn't. Making him listen to the three of them together would be terribly cruel.

But mainly, having a threesome with her best and only friend and his annoyingly-pretty boyfriend -- who also happen to be her co-workers -- seems like the kind of fantasy that ought to stay in her imagination only.

For now, at least.

She's honestly floored Park has been so…'forward' isn't the right word, not exactly. He's just got this quiet, mysterious sort of attractiveness about him that snuck up on her. It came out of nowhere and now it won’t let go of her. And Elliott, well, Elliott is prettier than both her and Park put together. Hearing those two fuck each other had been bad enough. But now the image of how they  _ look _ together is stuck in her brain, right alongside their sounds, and both things are so fucking hot it isn't  _ fair-- _

_ God dammit, Renee. Stop thinking about it! _

Catching her breath and shivering a little from the frigid temperature, Renee gazes into the Void.

All dimensions spread out before her, like a deck of cards fanning out into an infinite loop. The dimensions closer to her own share many similarities, and are almost identical in some cases, with the exception of a few small details. For instance, a person has a pet cat instead of a dog, or someone dyes their hair a different color. But for the most part, things line up. If one were to walk into the Void and see the dimension next door having a rainy day, one might want to bring one’s raincoat, because chances are, it'll be raining in one’s own dimension soon.

The further away one moves from their own dimension, the more things start to differ. Drastically, in some cases -- someone is dead in one dimension, alive in another, or a war was lost instead of won. The Shadow dimension is so far from her own, Renee can't even see it from where she stands within the Void, she has to input the coordinates into her phase-tech to get there when she visits it. 

Surrounding her now are dimensions very similar to her own, and before she can input the coordinates to the Shadow dimension, something catches her attention near the one she calls home.

In the reality right next to her own, Park and Elliott are fucking -- she can tell from the sounds. This isn't particularly surprising, especially given what those two were just doing in her own dimension, but she still doesn't let herself watch. She knows she'll never get it out of her head if she does. She can't keep herself from hearing it, though. Park is groaning something in Korean, and Elliott's making this pathetic whining noise and occasionally letting out a shameless moan. Still, at this point, that's not all that shocking, as long as she doesn't look.

No, what's shocking is  _ what _ Elliott and Park are fucking. Or rather,  _ who. _

Just as she's about to phase to the Shadow world, she hears  _ herself _ moan.

"Oh god, yes! _ Please!" _

Whipping back around, Renee catches sight of the dimension closest to her own reality, and her jaw drops.

Park and Elliott aren't fucking each other. They're both fucking  _ her. _ At the same time.

All three of them are naked. Elliott is flat on his back on the bed -- it looks like they're in one of the rooms on the  _ Mirage Voy'age _ \-- with Renee riding him, grinding her hips down at an angle that has them both gasping. Elliott's hands are on her hips, guiding her down onto his cock with his eyes squeezed shut, like it's so good he can barely take it. Behind her is Park, one of his odd, cybernetic hands wrapping around both her wrists, pinning them together behind her back as he thrusts into her. 

_ What in the FUCK-- _

Park's other hand is up around her neck, but it doesn't look like he's squeezing. He grunts with every thrust of his hips, chin resting on her bare shoulder as he growls something unintelligible into her twin’s ear. Renee wishes she knew what he was saying. 

Renee -- the one who’s from the  _ 'Fuck Yeah!'  _ dimension, apparently -- is absolutely  _ sobbing _ with pleasure, trembling all over and whining pathetically. After pausing to suck a dark bruise just below her left ear, Park murmurs something against her shoulder and she nods enthusiastically, whimpering  _ "please!" _

_ Oh my god. Fuck. _

Park releases her wrists and throat, gently lowering her down into the trickster's arms. Seeing Elliott's tan skin against hers has her distantly wondering if she’s really that pale.

_ God, Elliott. That body is amazing. Fucking perfection.  _

_ This is so unfair, ugh. _

_ Maybe I can talk this version of myself into trading dimensions with me. Just for like, a week... _

_ Nah, look at her. She’d never leave, she’s having way too much fun here. _

As the Renee in the bedroom drapes herself over Elliott's bare chest, Park grips her hips with both hands, slamming into her a little harder and making all three of them curse.

_ This is so fucking hot. Why? God! _

Park is fucking  _ beautiful. _ There's no other way to describe it, and watching him fuck her, Renee can't ignore it anymore. He's beautiful and stunning and fucking  _ hot, _ leaning down to trail kisses along her spine as he thrusts forward and Elliott holds her in place, fucking up into her. All of his synthetic skin is the same pretty, shiny teal color it currently is in her own dimension, and seeing all of it bared at once -- his ears and jaw and throat, two fingers of each hand, his palms, all the way up his forearms -- Renee is overcome with the urge to touch it, to stroke it with her fingertips and then with her tongue.

The sound that comes out of her body double when both men jerk their hips forward at the same moment is so shamelessly needy, Renee is actually a little embarrassed for herself.

...but also a little bit jealous, because  _ fuck. _

"God, so fucking  _ tight," _ Elliott groans, thrusting up into her as best he can in their current position. "I c-can  _ feel _ you-- _ fuck! _ \--I can f-feel you  _ through _ her, baby-- _ agh, fuck--!" _

"Are you getting close, Renee?" Park purrs, smoothing one of his synthetic hands over the curve of her spine. "Are you going to cum for us,  _ gongjunim?" _

_ Jesus fucking-- _

Renee nearly sobs.

"P-please,  _ please  _ Hyeon, I-- _ ah!" _

Park groans, threading one mechanically-modified hand through her raven locks and tugging her back up against his chest. Then he’s slipping an arm around her waist and releasing her hair to instead lick his artificial fingertips and slide his hand down between her thighs, dragging them over her clit.

Renee gasps out something that isn't even a word, and Park chuckles against the side of her throat, keeping her upright even as her legs begin to shake. She whimpers with each man's alternating thrusts, but apparently that isn't enough to satisfy her lovers, because then Renee notices Park give Elliott a mischievous look, and both of them stop moving for a moment, before beginning to thrust into her at the  _ same time. _

"FUCK! _Ah! Ah! Ah!"_ the Renee trapped between both men's cocks cries out. "Oh _fu-uck,_ oh my _god,_ _fuck--!"_

She's shaking from head to toe, and the Renee who isn't having the best sex of her life notices that each time Hyeon and Elliott thrust into her together, a spot just below her belly button bulges out slightly.

_ Seriously, there has to be a place that does memory wipes. I should ask Nox, he'd know… _

_ I should also...stop watching this...at some point... _

She watches Park murmuring in her ear, desperately wishing he'd fucking speak up already so she could hear what filthy things he's saying to the Renee in his arms. He's still stroking her clit with those metallic fingertips, sinking his teeth into the side of her neck and making her shudder in his arms  _ and _ in the Void.

_ "Shit, _ Renee--oh my g-g-god,  _ fuck--!" _ Elliott's back arches, muscles tensing as his hips jerk roughly upwards a few more times and he cums with a sound like  _ he's _ the one taking two dicks at once. "S-so good,  _ nghhh…" _

_ Fuck, Elliott. _

_ Just…fuck. Look at you.  _

_ Park is such a lucky bastard... _

The Renee on the bed follows Elliott over the edge only moments after, gasping out a desperate little sound and turning slightly pink from the chest up, her eyes glowing white like she's about to enter the Void. She sobs out a ragged cry and shakes with the force of her orgasm as both men hold her up. Park releases her when she starts to whimper with overstimulation, letting her collapse onto Elliott's chest as his own hands grip her hips and yank them back against his own, making all three of them shudder.

_ “Nghhh, _ Renee,” Park grunts, fucking into her so hard Renee can hear their skin colliding with each thrust. “Fuck,  _ gongjunim, _ you feel so-- _ mnnngh! _ \--s-so good…” 

She notices Elliott has captured her lips in his, and  _ fuck, _ Renee is so pissed this isn't her dimension, she could just about cry. Park is still thrusting roughly into her, looking like he can barely hold on. Watching both of them touch her interdimensional twin makes Renee ache to feel their hands on her own body, back in her own dimension.

"You are so beautiful--_ah!_ _fuck!_\--both of you," Park groans, one hand gripping the headboard as the other digs harder into his lover's pale skin, pulling her back to meet each vicious thrust of his hips.

Elliott's gently stroking her hair with one hand as he slips the other between their bodies. Renee can't see what he's doing with it from where she stands in the Void, but based on the sound that comes out of the version of herself lying naked atop him, she can guess.

Behind her, Park groans something in Korean.

"That's it, babygirl. You can do it, I know you can," Elliott urges her.

Renee lets out a soft little whimper, hiding her face in the trickster’s shoulder.

"Come on,  _ aein," _ Park gasps behind her, thrusts growing sloppy, desperate. "One more. Let me hear it, beautiful."

Just a few seconds later, Renee sobs out something unintelligible into Elliott's shoulder, her muscles tensing like she's been EMP'd. She shudders for a few moments, whimpering  _ “Elliott!”  _ before going limp and boneless on the trickster’s chest with a soft sigh. He slides both his hands back to her hips now, pushing them back to meet each of Hyeon's brutal thrusts.

_ "Fuck, _ Renee," Park all but chokes, slamming into her ass a few more times before yanking her hips back against his own and sounding absolutely  _ wrecked _ when he cums, burying himself so deep that  _ Elliott _ moans.

_ "Mmmm," _ Renee hums softly when Park gently pulls out of her. Even from within the Void, Renee can see both men's seed leaking out of her ass and pussy, dripping down her thighs.

_ Oh. My. God.  _

_ Fuck. _

Despite the sticky mess they've both made of her, Park and Elliott gently move her to lie on the mattress between them. Park wraps his arms around her from behind, and Elliott scoots forward to press their lips together softly, stroking his fingers through her hair again and down the side of her face.

"You are so beautiful," Elliott murmurs after pulling back a few moments later. "Both of you."

The Renee in the bed sighs sweetly, letting her eyes fall shut.

The version of her in the Void is gone before she hears her doppelgänger say, "I love you. Both of you."

\-----

\-----

She'd been planning to visit her friend in the cave, but she wasn't sure that was the best idea after what she'd just seen. Every time she was near Tae Joon, she felt the urge to do something stupid, and having just watched a version of him that looked like the one in her own dimension  _ fuck _ her, she felt this particular night may not be ideal for their first real feeding session. Especially because the urge to do stupid shit wasn't going away.

So instead, she phases back to the Christmas party and gets another glass of eggnog, which she downs in record time and quickly replaces. Elliott’s singing karaoke in the bar with two of his decoys while Ajay and Anita alternate between cheering and heckling them. God only knows where Park has fucked off to, but hopefully he’s done trying to destroy her for the evening.

Turning a corner into a hallway on the lower deck, she passes a room with the door cracked open half an inch. She keeps walking, though she’s pretty sure she hears Natalie's voice coming from within.

Then she stops dead in her tracks. She hears another voice.

It’s Nox.

"Nat, we  _ can't, _ not here-- _ agh, _ please!--w-we shouldn't…" the normally terrifying chemist gasps in a hushed, desperate sort of tone.

_ "Awww, _ are you sure,  _ mon amor?" _ Nat purrs in a flirty little voice. "Zere iz a certain... _ spark _ about ze danger, no?"

Despite everything in her brain saying _DON'T LOOK, DO NOT, NOPE, DON'T DO_ _IT _\-- Renee looks.

_ OH MY GOD. _

Natalie has Alexander pressed up against the wall, standing up on her tip-toes with one of her little white elf gloves disappearing under the apron of his Santa outfit. Nox's cheeks are rosy, chest heaving as he flattens himself against the wall of one of the  _ Mirage Voy'age's _ many bedrooms -- a feature Elliott had insisted on, naturally -- and tries to lean away from her adorable little face.

"Yes, my darling, but if someone were to hear--"

"Zen you will 'ave to stay quiet,  _ oui?" _ Natalie giggles, bringing a finger to her lips and smiling mischievously.

_ Nat! Oh my god! Girl! _

Nox groans, head thunking back against the wall when Nat's wicked little hand presumably finds what it's looking for.

"N-Natalie…"

_ "Shhhh!"  _ the diminutive electrical engineer scolds him.

"Oh  _ god, _ Nat--"

_ IS EVERYONE ON THIS SHIP FUCKING? _

_ Everyone but me, apparently. _

Renee phases back into the Void.

\---

She steps out of the Void and onto the roof of the upper deck of Elliott's ridiculous ship. It's the only place that's ever empty, and the view is nice, too. 

When Renee reaches it, though, someone is already there.

"Elliott?"

The trickster rolls onto his stomach from where he lies on his back, stargazing. When their eyes meet, she realizes it's a decoy.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were--"

"It's okay," the decoy says softly. "He's downstairs. Karaoke."

Renee nods. There's a pause, and she's pretty sure this one is the shy decoy, because it doesn't try to fill the silence with nervous chatter.

"Mind if I join you? It's a little...intense down there," she nods towards the party going on below them.

"Of course not!" the decoy replies, sitting up and giving her an excited, nervous sort of look. 

_ Why is this one so fucking cute? They all look the same! This doesn't even make sense! _

She crosses the roof, sitting beside him -- perhaps a little closer than he'd expected, judging by the look on his face. She stretches out on her back, gazing up at Talos's night sky and trying to ignore how damn flustered the Elliott next to her seems to be in her presence, because it’s making her feel flustered, too. After a moment, the decoy seems to collect itself, lying back down beside her.

"What are you doing up here all alone,  _ hmm?"  _ she asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Hiding," the decoy says softly, following the word up with a mirthless little laugh that makes Renee's heart ache. "From everyone else."

She nods.

"Well, that makes two of us."

\-----

"So who's everyone, exactly? I gotta know who they are if we’re hiding from them," she says with a smile.

"The other decoys," the shy one replies miserably.

"And why are we hiding from them?" Renee asks softly.

"'Cause they make fun of me," he says.

_ Aww! _

She rolls over on her side so she can look at him. The decoy continues staring at the sky.

"Why do they make fun of you?"

He looks embarrassed, like he doesn't want to answer. Renee suddenly realizes it's none of her fucking business.

"Hey, sorry, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she says, hoping she sounds reassuring. "S'not my business, really."

The decoy looks at her for a moment, then back at the sky.

"They make fun of me for a lot of things. Tonight it's because I've n-never kissed a girl. And because…" he pauses, like he doesn't know exactly how to put it. "B-Because I've never had sex with anyone but Daddy."

_ UM. _

Renee tries to control her facial expression.

"Who--uh, wh-who is 'Daddy'?" she asks, attempting not to sound horrified.

"Elliott," the sad little decoy replies.

_ Jesus Christ, this ‘Daddy’ shit is contagious. Elliott, your sex life is FUCKED. _

Something about the way the shy decoy says Elliott's name is fucking adorable, though. She's not sure how she feels about it calling him ‘Daddy,’ however. 

_ At least it...kind of makes sense?  _

_ No, nope. It's fucked. _

_ And you're fucked for thinking it's hot. _

Trying very hard not to imagine what this sweet, shy, innocent version of Elliott looks like getting fucked by the real one, Renee recovers her ability to speak.

"Well, fuck them -- uh, figuratively. They sound like total assholes!"

"Yeah…" the decoy is sitting up now, knees pulled in under its chin, tilting its head slightly to look at her.

“Don’t let them pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, or something you’re not ready to do yet, seriously,” she says in a tone she hopes is...soothing? It’s not a voice she uses often.

“It’s n-not that I d-don’t  _ want _ to,” Elliott’s twin insists. “It’s just--I’m just n-nervous. But I wanna, I do, I--”

“Hey,” she interrupts softly, “You don’t have to want to, either. Maybe you’re just not as into sex as, uh, ‘Daddy.’”

_ How many glasses of eggnog will get that word out of my brain? _

“I  _ am!” _ the adorable Elliott doppelganger says eagerly. “I’m just, I just--girls are d-different! More, um, intimidating. More...more--I don’t know what they are!”

The precious little thing looks embarrassed at his own outburst, even though his voice hasn’t gotten all that loud. Still, when he speaks again, it’s much softer.

“I’d, um, I’d like to find out. But the others say I’m never gonna, ‘cause no girl’s ever gonna kiss me, and I’m never gonna be brave enough to kiss a girl, so...they’re gonna make fun of me forever, I guess…”

The decoy trails off, looking frustrated. Renee isn’t sure what to say, so she says nothing, and just takes a moment to look at him. He’s as handsome as Elliott -- as  _ everything _ as Elliott,  _ obviously _ \-- but there is something so...sweet about him. He doesn’t have the bravado and charisma of the real Elliott to hide behind. He’s almost always hiding, though, however he can...and it’s kind of cute. Everything about him is kind of cute. When she looks up and meets his pretty brown eyes, they widen and he looks away. Renee giggles.

Then she says something immensely stupid.

"Would you  _ like _ to kiss a girl?"

The decoy turns back to face her, eyes even wider and mouth agape. After recovering from a brief moment of shock, it nods furiously.

"Y-yes," he says, following it with a much softer, "Please."

_ Oh god. Control yourself, Renee. _

Trying to be  _ absolutely _ sure she has his permission before she jumps the poor thing's bones, she presses on.

"Would you like to kiss...me?" she asks, surprised how nervous it makes her even though she’s pretty sure she already knows what the answer will be.

The decoy's eyes are like saucers and he nods again, beginning to say something and then stopping himself a few times before finally settling on, "Yes,  _ p-please, _ you're--you’re so  _ pretty…" _

_ You’re so fucking adorable. _

She's sitting up now, too, scooting back on the roof until she’s reclining against the side of a large vent coming out of the roof. 

"You're pretty too, you know," she says, motioning for him to come closer.

He's blushing deeply, too nervous to maintain eye contact for longer than a second or two, but he's eagerly crawled over to where she sits up against the vent, sitting on his knees in front of her like he isn't sure what to do.

Renee pulls her gloves off and then reaches out, stroking her fingers through the decoy's gorgeous curly hair and down the side of his pretty face. He's blushing so hard she can feel the heat of it against her palm when she cups his cheek, brushing her thumb over that pouty bottom lip. 

Slowly, so as not to startle the jumpy little thing, Renee leans in, bringing their lips together in a kiss that’s far more gentle than she wants it to be.

_ Fucking control yourself, Renee. _

The decoy is innocent, so the way it kisses her is, too. Despite that, Renee finds she is no less attracted to it than she is to the real Elliott, and no less desperate to fuck it. All she can think about is the fact that the last person she kissed before this  _ was _ Elliott, and she remembers that night in his bar on Solace all those months ago, and how fucking  _ good  _ his hands felt on her, and how goddamn much she’s missed it since then, how desperately she’s wanted it....and then suddenly the kiss isn’t so innocent anymore.

Suddenly it’s passionate and decidedly not-gentle, and when they finally pull away from each other, both of them gasping, Renee realizes she doesn’t want to stop.

She should, though. She definitely should. She should  _ absolutely  _ stop.

So naturally, she keeps going.

The decoy yelps when she pulls him onto her lap so he’s straddling her hips, but he sighs softly against her mouth when she kisses him again. He melts into her, lets her lick into his mouth and tug his curly hair and bite his pretty lips. He lets her kiss down the side of his throat, and he moans her name when she sinks her teeth into it.

_ Fuck, oh  _ ** _fuck._ ** _ I am gonna destroy this little guy. _

_ CONTROL. YOUR. SELF. _

He’s already aching hard, cock straining against his holosuit, but he doesn’t do a thing to bring her attention to it, seemingly content to spend the rest of the evening in her lap, sighing against her lips. Renee can’t stop herself, though, because she’s a monster.

_ “Ah!  _ Oh _ god, _ p-please…” the sweet thing moans when she reaches down, squeezing its throbbing cock through the holosuit.

_ “Hmmmm?” _ she hums against the decoy’s throat, giving his cock another squeeze.

_ “Ah!” _ he squeaks again, hips jerking forward into her palm. “Please...please d-don't stop, Renee. Please…”

She’s barely touched him at all, but he looks like he’s ready to explode. He moans when she sucks a little bruise into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder, and she feels his cock throb against her hand when she sinks her teeth into the sensitive spot a moment later.

_ “Mmmmgh! _ Renee, _ please…” _ he begs again, shuddering in her arms.

_ Fuck, why is that so hot? _

“Do you want me to make you cum, Elliott?” she purrs, hands drifting down to unbuckle the front of the holosuit. As much as she wants to tear it off him completely, it’s far too cold on the roof for that.

The decoy nods desperately. 

“Please! I n-need it so b-b-bad, I-- _ ah!” _ he’s cut off when she frees his cock, wrapping her hand around it and giving it a single teasing stroke. “Yes!  _ Please!” _

_ “Shhhhh,” _ Renee hushes him, pausing to lick the palm of her hand, then beginning to stroke him faster. “You wouldn’t want your  _ Daddy _ to hear us, would you?”

_ Jesus fucking Christ, Renee. You really just said that shit. Amazing. Bravo. Well done. _

The decoy moans against her shoulder, bucking his hips up into her hand and teasing the demon inside her that’s threatening to burst through her skin and swallow him whole.

“Or are you like him and  _ his _ Daddy?” she all but growls, sounding nothing like herself. “Do you like it when other people hear you getting  _ fucked?” _

_ Where the fuck is this even coming from? Oh my god. _

Elliott’s body double lets out a guilty little  _ ‘mhmm!’ _ and nods. He’s whimpering into her scarf, hips still jerking desperately into her hand, cock pulsing with need. She can feel the precum leaking down over her fingers, and his entire body shudders with each stroke of her hand. Something about seeing Elliott like this -- all timid and submissive but  _ so _ fucking desperate, so  _ eager _ \-- drives her insane. It brings out a side of herself that she can’t control. A side of her that wants to sink its teeth into every pretty thing she sets her eyes on. 

And Elliott's decoy is very,  _ very _ pretty.

_ Fuck. You’re so perfect, Elliott.  _

_ I know you want it...let me give it to you... _

Renee is pretty sure she’s going to hell now, but  _ fuck it. _ It’ll have been worth it, for this. 

_ So fucking worth it.  _

“Please...more...I n-n-need it so b-bad,” the decoy pleads, still thrusting up into her hand. “Renee, _ please!” _

A wicked thought occurs to her, and she lifts the hand not wrapped around the decoy’s aching dick up to his mouth, where she slips two fingers between his pretty lips. He makes an  _ ‘mmmngh,’ _ sort of sound when she does, tonguing between and around them, and for a brief moment, she’s reminded of the way the vampire had sucked each of her fingers clean the night she...brought him dinner. The memory sends another bolt of lust piercing through her, which is why those spit-slick fingers are buried in the decoy’s tight little ass about 90 seconds later.

_ “Ohgodplease,” _ the precious little thing gasps out when she curls her fingers into his core, his cock throbbing in her other hand. “Y-Your hands are s-s-so soft-- _ mmnngh! _ \--that f-feels s-so good, oh god--oh  _ please,  _ d-d-don’t stop--”

_ God, look at him. _

“I’m not stopping, sweet thing,” Renee replies, nuzzling the side of his neck tenderly.

“Not until I get to see you cum,” she growls, thrusting her fingers as deep as they’ll go.

_ “Mmmph!” _

The pretty little hologram whines, blushing at her words, and all she can think about is how unfair it is that they’re on this cold-ass rooftop on a ship full of drunk idiots, because she’d dearly love to drag the delicious creature in her arms into a bed --  _ her _ bed -- and rip away the fabric separating that warm, tan skin from her hands and mouth. She wants to fuck him 'til he shoots sparks.

She can’t, though. It feels...wrong. She doesn’t want to take things too far, which seems insane because this is  _ Elliott fucking Witt _ we’re talking about here, but this version of him is so sweet and pure, she can’t let herself actually  _ fuck _ the poor thing. That would be wrong for too many reasons to count. She doesn’t want to corrupt him, and she’s not even sure if she  _ can _ take him back to her room, since decoys need a holoemitter nearby to work. Unlike Elliott’s ship, the dropship isn’t covered in them. And she is  _ not  _ fucking him on this hot mess of a ship...even though it would be worth the embarrassment to force Park to listen to  _ her _ fucking Elliott, for once.

But she’s pretty sure he’s gonna blow before she so much as gets her mouth on him, anyway, so the point is moot. The gorgeous man in her lap is trembling, whimpering, grinding down on her fingers and thrusting up into her hand, and  _ fuck,  _ the way he’s  _ begging _ \-- it’s so shameless Renee’s pretty sure she’s soaking through her bodysuit just from listening to him.

_ “Agh!  _ Fffffuck, ohgodplease,  _ Renee--!  _ I’m s-so close, ple-ea-ase,” he sobs into her scarf.

_ “Shhhh,” _ she hushes him again. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just relax, breathe. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this, Elliott. So beautiful.”

The decoy lets out another pathetic sob. Renee feels his cock twitch in her grip again, his breath hitching, and she’s a little worried he might  _ actually _ be crying...but he’s still thrusting into her hand and rocking his hips down on her curling fingers, so hopefully they’re the good kind of tears.

She can’t help but be a little cruel, though. She lets go of his cock purely because she wants to hear the needy whines and desperate begging that will surely follow. The poor thing  _ sobs, _ grinding back on her fingers and whimpering in protest when she stops moving them, too. He’s not even saying words at first, just crying into her scarf and bucking his hips in frustration.

Then the begging starts.

“Pleasepleaseplease oh  _ god,” _ he gasps out. “Renee please,  _ please  _ l-let me cum, I’ll be g-g-good, I promise, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll--”

The uncontrollable monster inside her rears its ugly head again, because it  _ definitely _ isn’t Renee who seizes the decoy’s chin and turns its head to the side, bringing her lips close and growling, “I bet the other decoys are just jealous your  _ Daddy _ can’t get enough of this hot little ass of yours, aren’t they? They’re just jealous you’re the prettiest, jealous you’re his favorite one to  _ fuck. _ Gotta say, I can’t blame him, you  _ are _ awfully pretty like this, sweet thing. You gonna show me how pretty you look when you cum, Elliott?”

_ “Nghhh _ \--yes, fuck,  _ please!” _ the decoy cries, begging her to put her hand back on his cock.

She curls her fingers into him cruelly for a few more moments, enjoying how utterly at her mercy he is. But she has no desire to torture the poor thing, she just wants to see him come apart, so she releases his chin and brings her hand up to his mouth.

“Spit,” she demands.

The decoy shudders a little, but complies.

“Good boy.”

He whines, but it turns into a wrecked sort of moan once her slick hand is wrapped around his aching length again. She strokes him quickly now, no more teasing, because  _ shit, _ she wants to see him cum about as bad as he seems to want it to happen.

He’s chanting _ ‘please, please, please,’ _ into her scarf and she can feel his cock starting to throb in her hand, his thrusts growing a little off-beat as he barrels towards release.

“C’mon, sweet one, let me see how handsome you look when you spill. Make a mess all over me,” she purrs into his ear.

“Oh  _ god _ Renee-- _ ah! ah! _ \--s-so c-c-close, puh-lee-ease,  _ fu-uuu-uuck--!”  _ the sweet little hologram sobs out, hiccuping and shuddering with every thrust of Renee’s fingers and every stroke of her fist.

_ God, Elliott.  _

_ Fuck.  _

_ Fuckfuckfuck. _

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let me hear it. Let me see you cum,” she murmurs in his ear, twisting her fingers roughly at the same moment she teases the head of his cock with her thumb. “Show me what a good boy you are.”

_ “Ah! _ Ohfuckohfuckohfuckoh-- _ ah!--mnnngh!” _ Elliott’s twin wails, spilling over Renee’s fingers and all over her lap with a wrecked little sob.

His entire body tenses up, shuddering with each cresting wave of pleasure as he cries out her name again, followed by a weak little moan.

_ “Mmmm,  _ such a good boy,” Renee whispers against his throat, planting soft kisses along the skin there as the decoy gasps softly.

_ I wonder where all these scars came from? I know Elliott was bitten, but jeez… _

The decoy whimpers, overstimulated, so she releases his cock and slips her fingers out of him as gently as she can, pulling back to stroke the pretty thing’s hair with the hand that isn’t covered in holographic cum.

_ “Mmmm,”  _ the sweet, shy creature hums, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning forward against her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Th-thank you…”

“You don’t need to  _ thank _ me for that, sweetheart. It was my pleasure,” Renee pulls back, smiling as she brings her fingers to her mouth and licks some of the cum off them.

_ “Oh,” _ is all the decoy can squeak out, eyes going wide as he watches her suck his seed from her fingers.

** _Someone’s watching!_ **

The voice from the Void was so unexpected and so loud, she would have screamed if her mouth weren’t already occupied sucking her fingers clean. The hologram squeaks when she jumps.

She hears it before she sees it, and when she does, her eyes confirm what her ears already know: Park’s drone is hovering right above them, looking right at them, mistletoe sprig still dangling from the bottom. 

The shy decoy vanishes from her lap with a shocked little yelp, and the evidence of his orgasm disappears from her hand and bodysuit. It seems like it might have been an accident, Jee spotting them, but before the drone can do anything, Renee smirks up at it and says, “Try to keep your eyes in your head, Park,” with a mischievous wink.

Then she phases into the Void.

\----

_ “Ssibal!” _ Park hisses.

“What?” Elliott asks from the bathroom of their suite on the  _ Mirage Voy’age. _

_ Oh nothing, just walked in--flew in--on your ridiculously-beautiful best friend fucking a decoy, don’t mind me. _

“Nothing,” Park mumbles. “Flew the drone into a tree.”

He really didn’t mean to see what he’d stumbled across -- he was just doing a security sweep of the ship -- but once he’d seen it, he didn’t want to look away. So he didn’t, he stupidly let Jee get closer and closer -- eventually getting close enough to trigger Renee’s Void voices.

And then he hovered there, like an idiot.

It really wasn’t Park’s fault. What was he supposed to do,  _ not _ look at the girl he wants to fuck fucking the guy he’s already fucking?  _ Fuck! _

She hadn’t thrown her knife at Jee, though, which was definitely a good sign. And she  _ winked, _ repeating the same teasing reprimand she’d uttered in the upstairs hallway of the Witt family home, the first time she caught him staring. So that was a good sign, too. Right?

But she’d also disappeared into the Void almost immediately both times that night, and sadly, neither time did she step out of a portal and into their bedroom.

One thing was for sure, though. She absolutely wanted to fuck Elliott. No question.

_ God, was the decoy in her lap the same one from the other night? _

Park is trying very,  _ very _ hand not to envision a scenario in which he and Renee absolutely  _ wreck _ that poor little decoy, but he’s only human. It would look so good trapped between them with that pretty face buried between Renee’s thighs and Park’s cock buried in its tight little ass,  _ god, fuck, I’m going to make it beg-- _

“Hey babe,” Elliott purrs, climbing into the bed and smelling extra-delicious from having just taken a shower. “Anybody still out there partying?”

“There are a few stragglers, but I think for the most part, everyone is calling it a night,” Park replies, putting Jee on auto pilot and exiting the AR interface as he tries to wipe the lewd fantasy from his mind.

Elliott nods, gazing at him for a moment.

“What are you thinking about?” the trickster asks softly, taking a seat next to him on the bed.

_ Oh, nothing interesting. Just imagining I’m fucking your decoy’s throat while your best friend sits on my face.  _

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Park replies with a devious smile.

Elliott pouts. “Yeah, I would! Tell meeeeee!”

The trickster yelps when Park grabs him and pulls Elliott on top of him.

“How about I show you instead?” Park growls in his ear, thrusting his hips up so Elliott can feel his arousal.

_ “Mmmmmmmf _ yeah, show me…”

\----

“Fuck!” Elliott sobs, not even trying to be quiet.

_ Fuck being quiet. _

It’s Elliott’s ship...sort of. If he wants to have obscenely loud sex in it, he’s allowed to.

_ “Ah! Ah! Ah! _ Yes! So g-good,  _ fuck…” _ he can’t even string a coherent sentence together, everything just feels too fucking incredible. He’s bouncing in Hyeon’s lap, taking every inch of his cock and begging for more, riding him like his life depends on it.

Park lies beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, gripping Elliott’s hips hard enough to bruise and yanking them down to meet each of his upward thrusts with a wanton moan.

“Elliott-- _ fuck! _ \--you feel so-- _ agh! _ \--so perfect, so tight and hot and--shit, _ fuck!” _ Park cries out, shuddering beneath him.

_ “Mmmm, _ do you like it when I ride you like this, baby?” Elliott asks teasingly, slowing his pace and circling his hips with Park buried in him to the hilt.

_ “Yes!  _ F-Fuck, y-you feel so good, _ jebal, _ keep going,  _ please!” _ Park whimpers shamelessly, guiding Elliott’s hips down on his cock as the gorgeous legend continues bouncing in his lap.

“Oh  _ fuck,  _ baby,” Elliott purrs deviously, biting his lip and riding him a little faster. “Are you gonna cum in me? You gonna gimme that hot, sticky load?”

_ "Fuck _ yes, Elliott,” Park grunts, his pace growing frantic, desperate.

Elliott’s already spilled all over Tae Joon’s stomach twice, but watching the way the hacker writhes beneath him is almost enough to make him feel like trying for number three.

_ God, he’s so fuckin’ hot. That synthetic skin, those muscles, those fucking lips, Jesus. _

“Fuck,  _ jagi…” _ Park groans, slamming up into Elliott so hard he’s sure the sound of skin slapping skin can be heard all the way upstairs on the upper deck of the ship.

“Just like that, baby,” Elliott moans, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe from Park’s clavicle to his synthetic jaw, his artificial flesh still a pretty teal color. “Give it to me.”

Tae Joon grips him even harder, slipping an arm around his waist and pinning Elliott down against his chest as he fucks roughly up into him. 

“Like this,  _ jagiya?” _ Park growls, forcefully hilting his cock in Elliott’s pulsing heat.

“ _ Ah! Ah! Ah! _ \--ohmyfuckingGOD,  _ nghhhhh…” _ the trickster sobs as Park roughly grinds every inch of his dick up into Elliott’s aching core.

“That’s right,  _ jagi. _ Just hold still and-- _ fuck! _ \--take it like a good boy,” the hacker grunts in his ear. “Let me fill you up.”

_ Oh god, yes Sir. _

Elliott whimpers out a pathetic little ‘please!’ and tightens up around him, shuddering at his words, and that’s all it takes -- Tae Joon sobs out his boyfriend’s name, giving him every inch of his cock, and every last drop of his cum.

"Elliott! Fuck,  _ nae sarang…" _

\----

Renee phases to the dropship and into Park’s bedroom...only because she knows it’s currently empty. She has a few gifts to deliver. Once she’s done in Park’s quarters, she opens a portal to Elliott’s, giggling a little when she sets the package down on his bed.

_ Idiots. Both of them.  _

As much as she would like to phase into Elliott’s bedroom on that ridiculous ship, she just can’t. She’s not drunk enough. The vampire will hear it at the very least, see it at worst, and she can’t fucking do that to him. Not a chance. Even though what she saw in the Void earlier made her want to fucking tackle the both of them. Even though she liked it when Park caught her with the decoy. 

_ You’ve done enough damage tonight, Renee.  _

_ ...that decoy’s lucky we got interrupted, fuck. _

Phasing back into the Void and intending to go to her room, she hears a noise coming from the dimension next to her own, which she has thus far been successful in ignoring since that first encounter, the one that put the image of the three of them all fucking in her imagination, a mental image which is now seemingly burned into her retinas, because she sees it every time she closes her eyes. Or looks at Park. Or at Elliott. Which is  _ all the fucking time _ on that goddamn disaster of a ship currently parked on the map.

She hears it again.

It’s just the sound of someone -- it sounds like her -- gasping, so she ignores it.

_ Don’t look. _

Then she hears it a third time. Definitely her.

_ DON’T LOOK. _

Then she hears herself moan,  _ “Mmmmfuck, _ Elliott!” and a voice that sounds like Park’s shushing her.

_ DON’T FUCKING DO IT. DO NOT L-- _

She looks.

_ Oh god dammit. _

There she is, naked as the day she was born, sitting with her back against Park’s bare chest. He’s murmuring something in her ear, but just like before, Renee can’t hear what it is from inside the Void. Elliott is crouched between her legs, mouth sealed to the inside of her left thigh. Her head is thrown back, resting on Park’s scar-crossed shoulder as he mouths at her neck. Her fingers are tangled in Elliott’s hair and she whimpers, gasping his name again when he pulls back a little, mouth red with her blood, and starts licking at her thigh, mumbling something that sounds like  _ ‘sogoodohgod’ _ against her skin.

Then one of Elliott’s hands is slipping between her legs, curling two thick fingers into her and making her cry out a soft  _ ‘please!’ _

_ Oh my god. Fuck. _

Park is still growling against her neck, one of those odd hands toying with one of her nipple rings, the other hooking under the knee of her un-bitten leg, spreading them wider. A moment later, Elliott pulls his fingers out of her and finally pulls his mouth back from the wound on her leg. From the Void, Renee can hear him say, “God, you two are beautiful,” as he licks his fingers clean, pressing his other hand against the bite on her thigh to stop the bleeding. Park spreads her thighs further apart, then Elliott is leaning forward and putting that wicked, wonderful mouth on her cunt, and both versions of Renee audibly gasp when he does. Her back arches when he slides his fingers back into her, sucking her clit between his lips and sharing a mischievous little look with Park.

_"Ah!_ _Elliott!"_ moans the Renee who is clearly living her best life.

Finally gaining the will to tear her eyes away, Renee phases back to her lame, un-sexy home dimension, back to her bedroom on the dropship. Stepping out of the Void, she thanks the fucking gods that at the very least, she doesn’t have to listen to Elliott and Hyeon fuck each other tonight.

Though she almost wishes she did.

It’s the night before Christmas Eve, but she’s done partying for the night, and the vampire’s dinner can wait until she’s not throbbing with desire and aching to be touched.

\-----

“Will you be returning home tomorrow for Christmas?” Park asks, trying not to sound too...too invested in Elliott’s answer.

“Nah, stayin’ here, actually, for the event and stuff,” Elliott says, looking a little glum. “S’my first Christmas away from home.”

_ And that’s all your fault, Park. You fucking asshole. _

“Oh.”

“My uh, my uncle is gonna come visit my mom so she’s not, y’know, doesn’t have to be alone or whatever. But uh, yeah. What--uh, wh-what about you? You got any big holiday plans back...wherever you’re from?” Elliott asks, fidgeting with the corner of his pillowcase.

“I do not,” Park says, wondering if he should elaborate or not, and deciding not to.

“Well I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” Elliott says with that adorable, crooked smile plastered on his face.

“I guess I am,” Park grins back at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to Elliott’s chest before snuggling into it.

Elliott pulls him closer, stroking his fingers through Park’s hair.

_ I love you so much.  _

_ Fuck. _

_ I love you, and I can’t stop… _

\--

“So do--d’you have any family? Siblings, or...Ajay said you were, um, orphaned as a kid--I dunno, it’s none of my business, I’m sor--”

“I do,” Park says softly. “Have a family.”

“Oh.”

“I have--had--a sister. Not by blood, but we were raised together,” he says, pausing to think before he continues. “And I have a...mentor.”

‘Mentor’ sounds so...cold and distant. But ‘caretaker’ is even worse and ‘mother’ isn’t quite accurate either (you don’t write letters that say  _ ‘burn after reading’ _ to your mother, generally speaking), and  _ ‘only person who has ever consistently given a fuck about me’ _ is too long and depressing, so ‘mentor’ it is. Still, the term doesn’t truly do Mystik justice.

Elliott’s pulled away some, and is giving him this pained sort of look and he  _ hates  _ it, because he recognizes it. Pity.

\--

_ God damn. He really is all alone in the world. No parents, no siblings, never had a partner before...fuck. _

Elliott knows what it’s like to reveal a tragic part of your past and feel everyone in the room pitying you. It’s not a good feeling, and it’s not something he wants to do to Hyeon, but he can’t help but feel sorry for him. It’s all so damn  _ sad. _

“It’s...it’s not any of my business, so please don’t feel oblag--obligi--uh, pressured to answer,” Elliott says, taking a steadying breath before he continues. “But...what happened to your sister?”

“Dead. She was murdered several years ago.”

_ What?! _

“Oh my god, fuck, seriously? I am so sorry, I--you don’t have to talk about it. S-Sorry for bringing it up--”

“Elliott,” Hyeon interrupts him. “It’s alright. Really.”

Elliott wants to cry, which is stupid, because it’s not his tragic backstory or dead siblings they’re currently talking about, and Hyeon isn’t crying so Elliott shouldn’t be, either, he thinks. But he wants to cry, because it’s so unfair. Because it’s something that will hurt his beautiful boyfriend forever, and it’s something Elliott can’t fix. No one can fix it. Elliott knows exactly what it’s like, and he hates knowing someone as kind and beautiful as Hyeon has had to endure so much suffering in his young life.

Park snuggles closer to him, lying his head back on Elliott’s chest, and for what feels like the thousandth time, Elliott swallows down the _ ‘I love you’  _ that’s threatening to escape his heart, get sucked into his lungs, and come spilling from his lips.

\------

Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, Renee’s phone buzzes. She’s positive she’s hallucinating, because when she looks at it, there’s a notification from her bank informing her that  _ 300,000 fucking Apex Coins  _ have been deposited into her account. 

_ What the fuck?! _

After her brain recovers from the shock, the gears start turning.

_ Park. _

The total deposit is roughly the same amount she paid to repair Park’s synthetics, plus about 50,000 extra.

**5:28PM Renee:** Dude what the fuck? Why did you do that?

**5:29PM Hyeon: ** To what are you referring?

**5:29PM Renee:** Don’t give me that bullshit, Park. I told you, you don’t owe me. Why did you do that???

**5:30PM Hyeon:** I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Renee rolls her eyes, flopping back down on her pillow. It’s not that she isn’t grateful -- she is, and she needs the money -- but somehow Park manages to be completely insufferable, even when gift-giving.

_ He’s so annoying, even when he’s being nice. Like, where’d he even get that kind of-- _

_ Bzzzzzp. _ Her phone buzzes again.

**5:32PM Hyeon:** If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t acquire it through...legitimate means. No one will come looking for it, don’t worry.

**5:32PM Renee:** That does NOT make me feel any better. Ugh.

_ He is such a weirdo. I should hope nobody would come looking for it, for fuck’s sake. _

**5:35PM Renee:** ...thank you. you asshole.

**5:35PM Hyeon:** 별 거 아니에요. Of course. It was nothing. 

**5:35PM Hyeon:** I needed to thank you for saving my life. And for the gift you left me last night.

**5:36PM Renee:** It’s NBD. I’ll even let you take a look inside the armband if you promise not to STEAL it from me like a little SHIT again.

**5:36PM Hyeon:** I promise. I’m sorry, Renee.

**5:37PM Renee:** Yeah yeah. Anyway, just wait til you see what I got for Elliott. In a way, it’s for both of you. Tell him to stop banging you for 5 minutes and come back to his room on the dropship if he wants his present.

Renee is giggling like an idiot as she types, and feeling like one, too. But for once, she doesn’t care. It’s almost Christmas, everyone is dressed like and acting like complete idiots, so she’s not alone there. And honestly, having people to give gifts to feels  _ good. _ So just for right now, Renee lets herself enjoy it. She lets herself enjoy having a friend to text and tease, lets herself enjoy having someone to talk to. 

She lets herself enjoy not being alone.

But she has a friend who she knows  _ is _ alone, always, and she hasn’t yet given him his Christmas present...or his Christmas dinner.

She’s not sure today is a good day for that, though. Mainly because the urge to do something stupid just will not go away when she’s around Park -- either one of them, in either dimension. Maybe the vampire’s Christmas dinner can wait until Christmas day. 

_ Hopefully I’ll have collected myself by then… _

\--

_ Bzzzzp. _

**7:30PM Elliott:** OMG I can’t get over this present. I love it.

**7:30PM Renee:** I figured you might get some use out of it.

**7:31PM Elliott:** It’s amazing. Meet me on the party ship tonight so I can give you yours!

**7:31PM Elliott:** 8:00ish sound good?

**7:32PM Renee:** I’ll be there.

It’s just going to be the three of them hanging out on that ridiculous ship tonight, but for some reason she feels like wearing ‘people clothes’ (as Elliott dubbed them on Thanksgiving). She slips into the thickest, warmest pair of black leggings she owns, and pulls on a comfortable red sweater -- one that  _ actually _ covers her shoulders and isn’t thinner than cheesecloth this time. Zipping up her favorite boots -- a pair of gorgeous black suede knee-highs -- she considers what to do with her hair. ‘ _ Fuck it’ _ is her usual haircare routine, and why she almost always wears it tied up in a simple bun. She figures leaving it down will be just as easy, so today, she’s going with that, because she damn sure can’t replicate that crazy french braid thing that Elliott’s mom did for her on Thanksgiving.

After brushing out her hair and grabbing her black scarf, Renee throws her backpack over her shoulders and opens a portal to Elliott’s ridiculous ship. She doesn’t enter it, though, instead pausing to think for a moment. Then she runs back to her dresser.

A little lipstick won’t kill her.

\-------

Park was pleasantly surprised to find a drive containing the schematics for Renee’s phase-tech armband -- the same schematics she’d erased from his hard drive the day she visited his room to threaten him (sexily) -- sitting on his bed with a little purple bow stuck on the top, and a note attached:

_ Since we’re friends now, or whatever. Merry Christmas.  _

_ -Renee _

Park was absolutely floored, however, when he saw what she’d gifted Elliott with. The two of them returned to the dropship to pick up the gift, and Park saw that it was wrapped the exact same way as his gift had been -- purple bow, glittery black paper, note attached.

_ Elliott, _

_ I guess this is kind of for both of you, since one of you can't stop staring, and the other one can’t shut the fuck up. Merry Christmas. _

_ -Renee _

Elliott giggled at the note, eagerly ripping into the wrapping paper and pulling two items out of the box. Then he turned bright red. Park did, too, when he got close enough to see what his boyfriend was holding.

Renee had given them a silky black blindfold and a ball gag. Suddenly the attached note made sense.

Elliott burst into laughter and, after a moment, Park did too. Renee was kind of a wild card -- he never knew what to expect from her. But she was kind and funny and smart, and an excellent shot, and also fucking gorgeous, and Tae Joon could absolutely see what Elliott saw in her. 

He’d been sure Elliott was all she was interested in, and that might still be the case, but she’d also made it pretty clear that the blindfold was intended for Park. Even though he was pretty sure it was a joke, the thought of being bound and blindfolded and utterly at her mercy drove him  _ crazy. _

_ God dammit, Renee. _

\-------

_ God dammit, Renee,  _ Elliott thinks when she appears on the upper deck of the  _ Mirage Voy’age. _

_ Why do you have to look so fucking delicious?  _

_ Why do you have to BE so fucking delicious? _

She’s joined them on the Mirage Voy’age for a little holiday quality time, and she looks positively radiant. She’s wearing those goddamn people clothes again, though thankfully her pretty neck is obscured by her scarf this time.

“Awww, Elliott! I love it!” she squeals after opening the little box he had just handed her.

He grinned. He’d been a bit nervous about giving her the gift, but couldn’t resist. She slipped her hand through the little silver bracelet, examining the charm hanging off of it.

“It matches mine!” he says, rolling up the sleeve of his Christmas sweater to reveal a gold version of the same bracelet she’s wearing. “I know it’s like, super lame, but I love best friend bracelets! The little charms fit together, look!”

Arranging their wrists side by side, Elliott connected the little charms hanging off each of their bracelets. When pushed together, they formed a heart that projected the words  _ “Best Friends Forever” _ a few inches above their wrists, not unlike Park’s AR display, but the light is purple instead of green.

Renee squeals again.

“Elliott, this is so sweet,” she says, throwing her arms around him. “It’s not lame! I love the hologram, it’s so cool! Thank you!”

She kisses him on the cheek, and Elliott can feel himself blushing a little bit.

They’re each several glasses of eggnog in, and it’s getting late, so he’s not surprised when, a few minutes later, Renee rises to hug them both goodnight, thank him for the gift again, and return to her quarters on the dropship.

“Damn, she is so gorgeous,” Elliott murmurs once she’s gone.

“Yes,” Park replies, gazing wistfully at the spot where she’d just been standing. “She is.”

\----

When she gets back to her room on the drop ship, she’s tired, slightly drunk, and feeling like an idiot for hugging Hyeon. He hadn’t seemed particularly upset by it, but going by the look on his face, he was certainly surprised. It’s definitely not something she would have done sober.

She’s distracted from her embarrassment, however, when she notices a little metallic box sitting on her bed, topped with a glimmering holographic bow.

_ Who the fuck--? _

Then she realizes who it must be from. There’s only one person (well, one person’s drone) who can get into her room when the door is locked and then  _ re-lock it  _ on their way out. Park had seemed particularly distracted by his drone-piloting interface earlier, but she hadn’t seen Jee anywhere near the  _ Mirage Voy’age, _ and now Renee is pretty sure she knows what the little drone was up to while she was hanging out on Elliott’s ship.

_ Park, you sneaky little shit. _

Snatching the little box off her pillow, she lifts the lid and is met with a stunning silver necklace. There’s a tiny silver replica of her kunai knife hanging from the center of the delicate little chain, and for a moment, Renee wonders if she’s dreaming, because Elliott’s stupid, beautiful boyfriend buying her jewelry for Christmas isn’t really something her brain is prepared to process in its current, very-inebriated state. Or, like, ever.

She’s so distracted by the necklace that at first she doesn’t even notice the words floating a few inches above the box, projected from a tiny holoemitter that must have activated when she opened it.

She can’t read them, though, because the characters are Korean.

** ‘치명적이지만 아름다운’**

Renee sighs, pulling out her phone.

**11:48PM Renee: ** It’s stunning. What does the hologram say?

**11:49PM Hyeon: ** ‘Beautiful but deadly’

She smiles, heart skipping a few beats.

**11:49PM Renee:** I love it. 

**11:49PM Renee:** Thank you, Hyeon.

**11:50PM Hyeon:** 천만에요. Merry Christmas, Renee

Things have been strange between the two of them lately, and she’s still not sure what to make of him, exactly. One thing is certain, though: he is _ definitely _ DTF.

\-----

“So did she like the necklace?” Elliott asks, grinning as he climbs into their shared bed on his ship.

“I think so,” Park mumbles, cheeks reddening slightly. “I don’t think she’s going to kill me for it, at least.”

Elliott giggles, looking down at his gorgeous boyfriend with a mischievous smile.

“You’re so cute when you get all flustered, baby,” he murmurs softly, gazing up at Hyeon as he lays a trail of kisses up his stomach and over his chest.

_ And all the time, but that’s not the point. _

Park just blushes harder, shivering as Elliott drags his lips over the hacker’s bare skin. But when their lips meet, he growls, pulling Elliott down on top of him and slipping his tongue into Elliott’s eager mouth.

Elliott gasps.

Hyeon is wearing the tongue ring again.

_ Oh god.  _

_ Merry fuckin’ Christmas. _

\------

Renee doesn’t mean to fall asleep in her clothes and makeup, but she just can’t force herself to rise from the bed once she’s plopped down onto it. Toying with the little silver charm around her neck as she feels the one dangling from her bracelet bumping against her wrist, she tries not to think about what she saw in the Void, or how fucking badly she wants to open a portal into Elliott’s bedroom on that absurd ship of his and do some  _ very _ unladylike things once she’s inside.

She sighs.

_ New Year’s resolution: Stop drinking. _

_ Stop drinking Nox’s eggnog, at least. _

_ Oh, and maybe stop thinking about fucking your best friend and his boyfriend,  _ ** _and _ ** _ his boyfriend from another dimension. _

Unfortunately for Renee, that last resolution is far easier said than done.

She leaves the lid off the box that the necklace came in, letting it project the hangul characters into the darkness of her room, almost like a nightlight, as she drifts off to sleep.

\-----

After thoroughly wearing themselves out and making an absolute mess of the bed  _ and  _ each other, Park and Elliott slip under the freshly-changed sheets together and settle in to the bed together. Elliott gazes at his beautiful boyfriend’s dozing form, gently running his fingers through that ridiculously-silky hair as he watches Hyeon drift off to sleep. He’s reminded of the second night Park let him feed, when he’d passed out and Elliott had tucked him into bed, petting his pretty hair until the hacker fell asleep. That was the night Elliott knew he was absolutely fucked, because he was already falling.

It still kind of blows his mind that the gorgeous man across from him seems like he’s falling, too.

_ I love you so much, fuck. _

It’s true, but Elliott’s determined not to be the first one to say it out loud. No way in hell is he going to risk fucking everything up. He’s plenty good enough at that as it is.

He’s suddenly distracted from his thoughts when his phone vibrates with an incoming text message.

**12:15AM Mom <3:** Merry Christmas, Elliott! Thank you for the gift, it’s absolutely beautiful (of course it is -- it’s you!). Hope you have a good one, sweetheart. Momma’s missing you.

**12:16AM Elliott:** I’m really glad you like it. Merry Christmas, Mom. I miss you, too.

Taking a deep breath and willing the tears away, Elliott snuggles under the comforter, closer to the beautiful human beside him -- the man is the only effective distraction Elliott has found from the ugly, painful parts of his life, the parts that keep threatening to break through his cheerful facade. Still, Elliott’s thoughts eventually drift back to his mother, and the pretty golden locket he sent her for Christmas. The one that has a little a holograph of his own smiling face inside.

So she won’t forget it.

\-----------

Renee is in the cave, but she’s not sure how she and Elliott got there.

“Witt, I’m not telling you again. Get the fuck out of my way,” she growls, voice tinged with anger.

“No! I--I c-can’t let you do this! This is  _ wrong!” _ he yells, voice going up a few octaves.

She notices Elliott’s wearing a long white lab coat, beneath it a yellow button-up and a pair of black slacks. He’s also wearing... _ glasses? _

_ Awww, he looks so nerdy. _ It’s kind of precious.

“Elliott,” the vampire croaks from where he lies on the floor of the cave. “Don’t…”

Renee hadn’t noticed him at first, but now that she has, she gasps -- or tries to. She can’t, though, because it’s not her body. She’s watching through a different Renee’s eyes.

The vampire is lying in a puddle of what appears to be his own blood. He’s missing his black coat with the red lining, and instead of the crisp white shirt and the brownish-red vest he normally dons, he’s wearing some sort of white tunic -- well, it  _ was _ white, probably, but it’s hard to tell because it is absolutely drenched in blood. It’s also ripped nearly all the way off, revealing what appear to be multiple stab wounds in his chest and stomach. There’s blood leaking from his ears and eyes and nose, too. He’s the same sickly grey color he’d been in her dream, and though he doesn’t currently look drugged, he does look terribly injured.

Renee wants to scream. 

Instead, she says, “Listen to your little boyfriend, Witt. Go home. Final warning,” and raises her right hand.

There’s a wingman in her hand, and she’s pointing it at Elliott.

“Why are you doing this?!” Elliott pleads, eyes filling with tears.

She sighs. “He’s  _ sick, _ Elliott. Look at him. I can’t let him make you sick, too. He almost killed Natalie yesterday.”

“YOU  _ MADE _ HIM SICK!” Elliott screams so loudly that even the Renee whose body she’s in jumps a little at the sound of it.  _ “You _ did this to him! H-he’s sick, but he’s not--he just needs m-medical care other than your  _ fucking drugs, _ Renee.”

“He volunteered, Witt. All aspects of the study were thoroughly explained to the subject prior to--”

“Oh they were, were they?” Elliott snaps, interrupting. “Did you explain the part about turning him into a fucking  _ monster? _ Did you explain that this little Project of yours makes him your specimen, your--your fucking property for as long as your sadistic ass sees fit? ‘Cause I’m startin’ to feel like the answer to both of those questions is  _ fuck no.” _

“You’re on thin ice, Witt,” Renee warns, wanting to scream.

“Jesus Christ, Renee. You don’t even--you haven’t been the same since the Project,” Elliott stammers, voice cracking. “You haven't been yourself since, and you should never have been allowed to return to work, never been allowed to oversee the next Project. You are _not_ thinking like a scientist right now, Blasey. You haven’t been for a long time. I mean, Jesus Christ, what even was the point of doing any of this to him, we’re here to study the goddamned adaptation patterns of _native plants and wildlife,_ do you even remember that anymore? How are you even getting this shit approved? I don't fucking believe for a second that he signed that consent form. You forged it, like you forged the rest of them.”

“Elliott,  _ go!” _ the vampire urges him weakly.

“That’s really not something you need to worry about, Witt. What are you going to do, report me? Tell the Syndicate what you saw?” Renee barks out a bitter, mirthless laugh, “You didn’t see a goddamned thing tonight, Witt. You know why? Because your fingerprints are all over this, too. You’re just as guilty as I am,” she sneers.

“I know,” he says miserably. “I should never have helped you with any of this. Which is why I’m not doing this for you, I’m not turning this cave into some demented holotech prison for you, and I’m not keeping your fucking secrets anymore!”

Renee smiles.

“See, the thing is, Witt -- it turns out I don’t need you for that anymore. Natalie and Nox installed it for me already, since you decided to play hooky yesterday. Funny, the very same day this specimen mysteriously escaped from its containment unit,” she says cooly. 

“He’s not a  _ fucking _ specimen! He's our co-worker for Christ’s sake! He’s our--our--” he cuts himself off and takes a breath, shaking his head. 

“You can’t just--just  _ do _ this to him!” Elliott yells, looking angrier than Renee has ever seen him.

“This  _ thing,” _ she nods towards the bleeding vampire, “is  _ not  _ our co-worker. Not anymore. He’s not your lover anymore either, Witt. He’s a  _ monster.” _

“You’re the monster! You did this to him!” he cries voice cracking again. "He loved you, too, Renee! We both did! I can't--I d-don't understand, why would you--"

“Witt, get the fuck out of my sight," Renee seethes. "Don’t make me do something unpleasant. Last chance.”

“Elliott, please, you must  _ go…” _ Tae Joon croaks from his place on the floor behind Elliott.

_ “NO! _ I’m not leaving you here!” 

Renee rolls her eyes, sighing. “Such a waste. You were a good scientist, Witt. Shame it has to be this way.”

Elliott’s eyes widen for a moment as he stares down the barrel of her wingman, then he squeezes them shut. But before he can even scream, she’s dropped the gun and raised her left arm to cast a portal right under his feet. 

He drops into it instantly, disappearing into the Voidless place along with the sickly-grey portal when she closes it.

** _“NO!”_ ** Renee screams right along with the vampire in her dream, jolting awake so hard she knocks the alarm clock off the nightstand in her bedroom.

For a few moments, all she can do is sob quietly.

_ Oh god. Was that--did that really happen? Did I...do that to them? _

Catching her breath, she wills herself to stop shaking, but she can’t. All she can think about is the vampire, looking half-dead like Park had the night she’d barely managed to save his life. And Elliott,  _ fuck...is that--did that awful place kill him? Did I kill him? _

She pulls off the covers and swings her legs over the side of the bed, bending down to retrieve the alarm clock she’d knocked to the floor. 

2:24AM. 

She’s tired, but knows there’s no way she’s falling asleep again anytime soon. Even if she could, she doesn’t want to -- the dreams are becoming more than she can handle. 

_ Fuck going back to sleep.  _

She doesn’t even bother changing into her suit. She slips the phase-tech on her arm, opening a portal and storming into the Void in leggings and a sweater, on bare feet.

\-----

Stepping out of the portal and into the Shadow world, she immediately regrets her decision to forgo shoes, as the entire canyon is covered in roughly a foot of powdery snow. Cursing and darting into the cave as fast as she can, she heads straight for the force field.

“H-hey, um, you there?” 

He’s always there, but since he has a bed, it stands to reason that he may need to sleep sometimes. Renee already feels stupid coming here. Waking him up would be even stupider. She shakes her head, annoyed with herself, and turns to head back towards the mouth of the cave. The moment she does, the holographic camouflage and force field disguising the vampire’s living quarters evaporate.

Turning back around, she sticks her head through the entrance, peering into his room. Surprisingly, it’s empty. 

_ Then who let me in? _

Just as the thought passes through her mind, Jee comes swooping by, flapping her wings and chirping excitedly.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Renee smiles at the vampire bat. “Is he, uh, not here?” 

_ And if he’s not, HOW? _

The bat flaps across the room, coming to hover near one of two large bookcases next to the vampire’s desk. Renee hears the sound of a force field deactivating and suddenly, one of the bookcases disappears entirely, revealing a small tunnel through the cave wall. Jee glides into it, hovering just inside and chirping for Renee to follow.

_ Whoa.  _

It’s a very small passageway, but Renee isn’t a particularly large person, so she doesn’t have to bend down to avoid hitting her head. At the end of the tunnel, she can hear what sounds like running water. 

Stepping out of the secret passageway, she finds herself in a spacious cavern. The rocky ceiling of the cave has several large holes, allowing some moonlight to beam down into the cave. Through one of the large cracks in the ceiling, a steady stream of water pours, landing in a large sort of natural reservoir below, which is nearly the size of a swimming pool. The surface of the water reflects the beams of moonlight back upwards, illuminating the ceiling with a glimmering light that ripples along with the water below. Red pillar candles -- like the one outside the entrance to the vampire’s bedroom -- sit on jagged rocks in various places throughout the little grotto, causing the walls of the cave to dance with candlelight as well as moonlight. The scent of sandalwood fills the air.

_ How big is this cave? _

The cavern is so large, Renee needs a second to get her bearings. After spending a moment just taking in the room’s beauty, her eyes fall on the large pool of water in the center of the secret chamber, and she gasps. She's finally set eyes on the vampire, who is wading through the chest-deep water with his back to her. Naked, presumably.

He turns around when he hears her gasp. 

“Renee?”

She averts her gaze immediately, turning her back to him to give him some privacy. “S-sorry, I, uh--Jee let me in, I didn’t know--”

_ Didn’t know this was your secret bathroom, or whatever.  _

_ Jesus. Park is right. I have  _ ** _got_ ** _ to start knocking more often. _

She hears him climb out of the quarry, pulling himself up onto the rocks. A moment later she hears the sound of shifting fabric, and breathes a sigh of relief. Him putting some clothes on will make the situation approximately 500% less awkward than it currently is.

“Are--are you alright?” his voice is closer and she doesn’t hear the rustling fabric anymore, so she turns to face him. But when she does, she gasps again.

He’s wearing pants, but he’s still shirtless. It’s not the shirtlessness that makes her gasp, though. It’s the multitude of deep blue scars littered across his chest and down his stomach. They look painful. The worst is the one in the center of his chest. It’s huge and round, and the scar tissue itself is fresh, a bright shade of magenta.

It’s the wound from the charge rifle.

Renee bursts into tears.

The vampire looks bewildered, crouching before her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“What is it? What--”

Renee jerks away, angrily wiping at her eyes. 

“Why did you attack me? The first time I came in here looking for you, you said you thought I was somebody else. But you still called me Renee.  _ Why?” _

The vampire winces a little, like the memory bothers him.

“I--”

“It’s because I did this to you, didn’t I?”

The vampire says nothing, looking guilty. 

“Why didn’t you  _ tell  _ me?! H-how could you leave something like that out? You said that Elliott was  _ gone _ in this dimension, you didn’t say that  _ I _ killed him, that I--that I’m a  _ monster, _ oh  _ god…” _ she dissolves into tears again.

“Renee, you didn’t do this to me. Or to Elliott. What gave you that idea?”

“Bullshit, I saw it!” she snaps angrily. “I watched it happen in my...dreams,” she trails off, suddenly realizing she probably sounds and looks insane. “She--I-- _ we _ threw him into that Voidless place with no way to escape! I put you in a fucking cage, I locked you in here, I--”

“Please, Renee. You are not the same person who did those things. Not even close,” he says, blinking back tears of his own now.

“You don’t know that! The only reason I’m any different is because I had my fucking personality erased! If that hadn’t happened, I’d still be in the lab, doing god-knows-what to god-knows-who and destroying every life I touch in my own dimension! I--” she trails off when she catches another glimpse of the enormous, round scar on his chest. “Fuck, and I’m  _ still  _ destroying things.”

Once he realizes what she’s looking at, he smiles a little. “Renee, by your current logic, I did this to myself,” he gestures to the charge rifle scar. 

Then he stands, offering her his hand. She takes it, and when he pulls her up, she comes face-to-face with all the other scars across his chest. She’s hit with another wave of guilt, remembering the dream, realizing she’s who put them there. Every wound marring that beautiful skin is  _ her fault. _

Without really thinking, she reaches out and gently touches the scar from the charge rifle. The vampire gasps, but doesn't flinch or move away. Looking at the wound now, she wonders if he’d have survived a headshot. 

_ He’s lucky Park aimed for the chest, not the face. _

“I thought--aren’t you basically immortal?” she asks, tracing the scar with a single finger.

“Immortal, yes. Indestructible, no.”

Her eyes are filling with tears again which is fucking annoying because she already feels like an idiot for barging into his bathroom. Then she realizes she’s still touching his chest, which she should probably have stopped doing, like, a good ten seconds ago. 

She pulls her hand away.

“God, I'm so sorry,” she says, furious at all the terrible things that have happened to him, so many of them caused by her.

The creature reaches out, swiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“Don’t be sorry.”

\--------

“So what happened? When you, uh,” she motions to his chest. He’s got a shirt on again but it’s cut low enough that she can still see the charge rifle scar peeking out of the neckline. 

The vampire sighs deeply, looking away. “I lost control. There is no excuse. I deserved what happened.” 

Wraith doesn’t know what to say to that, because from the looks of the scene she arrived on that night, yeah -- that’s pretty much how things went down.

“He thought I was...visiting Elliott in your dimension, somehow. That I was harming him. He said...he said he’d find my Elliott and hurt him. Implied the Elliott in this dimension  _ left me _ because of my...condition," the vampire sighs, covering his face with his hand. "He had no idea. We were both making stupid, empty threats. I was hungry. I was  _ angry.  _ He looks like me, and his flaws are my own. I just...snapped.  _ Mianhamnida, _ Renee. But I will understand if you cannot forgive me.”

“Hungry? Why were you hungry? I brought you blood…”

“Yes, and I was trying to drink as little as possible. It was foolish. I was just...I wasn’t sure they were going to keep coming, I was trying to make them last until I could figure out something else. Jee is a great little huntress, but she can’t catch flyers or Shadows for me. She can’t disarm the Repulsor, either. And as much as I appreciate her hard work, an ounce of mouse blood just isn’t worth the effort it takes to catch one…”

“You seriously thought I’d just -- what, let you starve? Just fuck off and leave you here with the Repulsor working and never come back?”

The vampire says nothing, just looks down at his feet. Renee suddenly realizes that  _ of course  _ he thought she’d do that -- the Renee in his own dimension had done  _ exactly _ that. Suddenly, she feels like an asshole. She looks at the scars mangling his beautiful skin and thinks of the way he'd looked in her dreams, sick and thin and half-dead. 

Both versions of Park are good at pissing her the fuck off, but they’re also really good at making her feel sorry for them, even when she doesn’t want to. 

“Come here, I have--I can fix those. Well, sort of. I can make them better,” she motions to the scars on his chest. “I have a thing--I’ll show you, come on.”

She takes his hand, leading him back through the secret passage and into his bedroom. 

“Sit,” she points to his bed, bending over to dig the dermal regenerator out of her backpack. “And, um, take your shirt off.”

The vampire takes a seat on his bed, pulling his thin tunic over his head and eyeing her with an amused sort of interest.

“This, uh, it works better the sooner you use it,” she says, presenting the little handheld device and feeling flustered for some reason. “So it’s not going to completely heal...everything. But it’ll help. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Just tingles.”

Tae Joon nods.

Renee approaches the bed and goes to sit next to him, before realizing that’s going to be an awkward angle for both of them.

“Lie back so I can--yeah, like that. Need a flat surface, y’know,” she mumbles, feeling like an idiot.

The vampire swings his legs up onto the bed, scooting to the middle and reclining on the pillows. He gives her an expectant look, smirking just a little bit.

_ He is so fucking beautiful. Scars, hardware, and all. _

_ Don’t stare. Stop staring. God dammit. _

She feels a little guilty for giving Park so much trouble over his inability to stop staring, because now she’s doing the same damn thing and...yeah, it’s pretty fucking hard to stop. After a moment, she forces herself to focus, climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside him, lifting the little metal device up to his chest with an unsteady hand.

She decides to start with a smaller scar, a few inches beneath his collar bone. She holds the dermal regenerator up to his flesh and moves it across the bluish-purple scar. After a few moments, it’s faded, but not by much. She moves to the charge rifle wound.

“Did...did it hurt?”

_ Dumb. Ass. Of-fucking-course it hurt, you idiot. _

“Terribly,” the vampire murmurs softly. “But not any worse than what she did to me.”

“Why--why did--why would she…” she trails off. It’s none of her business, but she needs to know. 

He sighs deeply. 

“We worked for her, Elliott and I. At the lab. I don’t...things are fuzzy, my memories were compromised during one of the procedures--I only know what Elliott explained when he tried to free me, but I didn’t even know who I  _ was _ then, and she--she--” his voice cracks, and so does Renee’s heart.

“She’d been through an experiment, like the one you told me you survived. It was considered a success -- she came out of it with her memories intact, having gained the ability to...manipulate the Void. To rip it out of existence and traverse the space that’s left behind.”

“Is that...is that what that terrible place is? Where she--where she sent your Elliott? Is that why I can’t phase in here?”

The vampire nods, blinking away tears.

“She wanted to be sure no version of herself from any other dimension could free me.”

“But  _ why? _ I don’t get--why did she do this to you? Why did she hate you so much?”

“She didn’t,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “Not at first. Not until after the experiment she volunteered herself for. She was a different person when she came out of that place, that nothingness. She wasn’t the same. But she still had all her memories and could string a sentence together, so they called it a success and she was allowed to continue running the bio division.”

It seems like the memory pains him.

“After she got access to that...place where the Void should be, things changed. She changed. Said she met someone there, a...man, if you could call it that. Said he could bring the dead back to life, cheat death, live forever.”

He sighs deeply, rubbing at his cybernetic eye.

“I didn’t realize she’d gone mad until it was far too late. She was smart. Good at covering her tracks. I didn’t know she was already gone when I volunteered for the experiment. The first phases were successful,” he gestures to the synthetic skin covering his throat and the optical implant. “Later phases...were not.”

“But I was blind. I didn’t realize what was happening. I didn’t want to see the truth.”

The vampire pauses, but it’s clear he wants to say something else. His cheeks have turned a pretty shade of violet.

“We were lovers,” he says softly. “The three of us. Renee, Elliott, and I.”

Renee’s jaw drops.

“It was--it is...a long story,” he murmurs, looking embarrassed.

“I have all the time in the world,” Renee says, squeezing his hand with the one that isn’t holding the skin-repairing device to his chest. “Please tell me. I want to understand.”

He looks into her eyes for a long moment, then looks down at his hands. Renee notices it appears he’s cut his claw-like fingernails down to a normal length.

“I found something I shouldn’t have,” he says, looking miserable. “Caught her forging signatures on consent forms for our human test subjects -- we came here to study the unique ways the wildlife on this planet adapted to living without sunlight. Of course, working for the Syndicate...nothing is what it seems on the surface. I figured they had her working on some kind of biological warfare, or illegal research experimenting with gene drives or something. Something with a point. Something with some...scientific merit. When I looked a little too closely, I found her...her fucking menagerie of ruined lives in that basement, and I didn’t have a chance. She’d been editing her own genes, she was stronger than five men put together, and by the next day, I was in one of those cells, drugged out of my mind, and the story was that I volunteered for it. Of course, the forged consent form backed that up. I don't know why she didn't just kill me, but nothing she did made any sense by that point, as far as I can see.”

The vampire’s lip is furled in disgust, like just thinking about it makes him want to be sick.

“She convinced Elliott I’d agreed to it, so he went along with it, for a while. But he was no fool. It wasn’t long until he was onto her. Of course, by then, she’d left me in that godforsaken place for so long I didn’t know my own name, let alone who she was or why I was there. A great deal of it has come back to me, but at the time, I was nothing. No one. I didn’t know who I was. I only survived the exposure to that Voidless place because I was only half-human by that point. Still, it nearly killed me, and it took most of my mind with it.”

Renee feels a tear leak down the right side of her face. She knows exactly what he means, exactly how it feels to wake up scared and alone, with no name and no past and no memories. She hates that there’s a dimension where she’s done that to someone else. Especially this poor creature.

“Elliott was a kind, sweet, good person. He was smart, and funny, and he saw the good in everyone. He was a ray of sunlight on this miserable, dark planet, and he should have run like hell the moment she locked me in here. He should have saved himself. When he freed me from the lab, they got me back into containment -- but once I was here, he tried again. She knew he would. She got here first and...subdued me,” he gazes down at the scars littering his torso. “When Elliott arrived...it was too late. He didn’t know she’d gone mad, that she was doing that--that  _ thing’s _ bidding--I doubt he’d have confronted her the way he did if he knew how far gone she was.”

The vampire leans forward suddenly, resting his head in his hands, which forces Renee to move the dermal regenerator out of the way.

“Elliott was...he was  _ everything _ to me. Both of them were. But she--she lost herself, abandoned who she was for some--some  _ monster _ she met in that nightmarish place!” he’s crying now, she can tell from the sound of his voice. 

“And then she--” his voice cracks.

“Then she  _ took him _ from me!” he yells suddenly, slamming his fist into the cave wall next to his bed so hard that it cracks and a few small rocks tumble to the stony floor below.

His outburst is so sudden, Renee nearly falls off the bed in shock.

He buries his face in his hands and murmurs, “I’m sorry, I--it is hard for me to talk about.”

“Hey,” Renee says, scooting closer to him and wiping at tears of her own. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. What happened to you was terrible...I don’t--I mean, I’m amazed you haven’t lost your mind, honestly.”

Tae Joon scoffs bitterly, “I wasn’t always this way. I killed just about everything that entered this cave those first hundred years. And I am only this way now because of your help. At my core, I am a monster. I can’t be domesticated.”

“Bullshit,” Renee says, pushing him back against the pillows so she can continue working on the scars. “I was so out of control after my experiment, they were going to have me put down. I was rabid, feral, terrified. I felt like a monster. Like a madwoman. But someone saw something in me -- god only knows what it was, because I had no redeeming qualities in that particular moment -- and stepped in to intervene. She saved me. Even though I probably didn’t deserve it, because apparently I volunteered for the experiment, and have a Ph.D in Ethically-Questionable Sciencing, or whatever.”

Tae Joon snorts, the same little snort Park does when she's made him laugh even though he doesn’t want to.

“You’re not a monster,” she says softly, setting the dermal regenerator down and reaching out to stroke his beautiful face. “You’ve been made into one, but that’s not who you are inside. It’s not Tae Joon.” 

She thumbs an errant tear from one of his cheeks and he leans into her touch, brow furrowed in an expression that almost makes her worry that it hurts, her touching him. After a moment, she pulls her hand back, and he opens his eyes.

“So, what do you think?” she asks, gesturing to his chest. “Like I said, s’not perfect, but I think it made a difference, don’t you?”

“I do,” Tae Joon says softly, gazing down at the enormous charge rifle scar.

It really does look better. The indigo scars that her evil twin left all over the vampire’s chest the night she killed Elliott have faded to thin, silvery slashes in his pretty purple skin. The charge rifle scar is still huge, and god-awful looking, but it’s gone dark purplish-blue, and is no longer that angry, painful-looking shade of pink. It’s shrunk a little, too. It looks like he received the wound a decade ago, not a month ago.

_ “Gomawoyo. _ Thank you, Renee.”

_ “Cheon maneh,” _ she replies, grinning at the shocked look on his face. “What? I’m picking up on some of it!”

They both fall silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

_ He is so fucking beautiful. Scars or no scars. Fangs or no fangs. He’s perfect. _

Suddenly she realizes she’s sitting on his bed, and his shirt is off, and all at once she’s overcome with the desire to do something incredibly stupid. 

Swallowing that desire back down, she instead looks at him and asks, “Are you hungry?”

\--

The answer is obviously yes, and once she’s dragged it out of him, things start getting complicated.

“I  _ told _ you, I’m not doing this unless I’m restrained,” he near-shouts. “I could hurt you!”

“And I told  _ you _ that I’m not putting you in that fucking straight jacket, now or ever. It’s not happening!” she snaps back, digging through her backpack.

“Then we’re not doing this. I’m not going to let myself--”

“Oh my  _ god,” _ Renee interrupts, rolling her eyes. “You are so dramatic, Jesus. Here, catch!”

She pulls a gift from her backpack, wrapped in glittery black paper and topped with a purple bow, launching it across the room at the vampire, who just barely manages to snatch it out of the air.

“What is it?”

“It’s your Christmas present, you weirdo. And it’s exactly the kind of thing you said you need. Open it!”

Giving her a dubious look, Tae Joon slips his thumb under the seam of the wrapping paper, tearing it from the box. When he’s finished, his eyes go wide.

“Uh, w-what are--”

“They’re holocuffs! You should know, Elliott says him and Park use them all the time. I assume if they can handle Elliott’s crazy mutant strength, they can handle yours, too.”

The vampire just stares at her.

“Oh come on, you said that was the only thing keeping you from doing this. What now?”

“I...are you sure about this?” 

“Oh my god, I’m not doing this again,” Renee groans. “Yes, I am sure. Yes, I know we don’t have to do this.  _ Yes,  _ I want to do it anyway. Please. Okay?”

Tae Joon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It will be...there will be a mess, w-what about your clothes--”

“I brought some clothes that I don’t care about, so it won’t matter if they stain. Just like we talked about. Is the interrogation over? Will you eat now?”

“Where...on what p-part of your body do you prefer I--” he pauses, looking so damn  _ sad. _ “It will...leave a mark. Do you really want an ugly scar on your pretty neck?”

Trying to ignore how excited hearing him call her neck pretty makes her, she shrugs.

“I’ve got a dermal regenerator. You got a better idea? I mean where else would you--”

Then she remembers what she’d seen in the Void earlier -- Elliott’s mouth pressed to her inner thigh, lapping up every drop of blood that he could reach. The thought of the vampire’s mouth on her thigh makes her feel a little lightheaded.

“Elliott cannot feed from his...partner’s...neck,” Tae Joon says, cheeks going a rather pink shade of purple. “The synthetic skin is tough to bite though and difficult to repair, so Elliott drinks from his thigh.” 

_ Great, now that’s gonna be stuck in my head forever, too. _

The thought of watching Elliott pin his stupid, hot boyfriend to the bed and sink his fangs into Park’s stupid, hot thigh was...well, it was stupidly-hot.

_ You wear an enormous scarf literally every day of your life. Your hair is long enough now to cover your neck. If it leaves a mark, you could just cover it with makeup. But it’s not going to leave a mark because you got a dermal regenerator for this exact purpose, you dumb fuck. _

“Y-Yeah,” Renee stammers, trying to ignore her conscience. “Guess, uh, guess we better not do the neck, I really don’t want Elliott to see a scar and flip out. He doesn’t know I know about him...y’know.”

The vampire nods wordlessly, like his mind is elsewhere. She feels incredibly awkward, because how does one even begin to initiate something like this? But she has to, because if she doesn’t do it now, she knows he’ll never let her. He’ll find another excuse to live half-starved on Shadow blood or some other stupid shit because--because--

_ Because he’s used to the pain. _

“Alright, where we doing this? You got somewhere I can change into my, uh, bloodsport gear?” She winks at him, and then feels dumb as fuck, realizing that’s a joke he’s probably not going to get, because everyone in this dimension seems to be too busy creating or being turned into genetically-modified freakshows to participate in The Games. Except in October, apparently.

“As I said before, I’m afraid it’s always a rather messy affair. It is probably best if we return to the grotto,” he looks to the secret passageway she discovered earlier, motioning for her to enter. “Call for me when you are...decent.”

Renee snorts, heading into the secret passage. 

“Don’t hold your breath waiting on that,” she says with another wink.

His cheeks are that pretty pinkish-purple shade again.

\--

The vampire’s eyes widen almost comically when he enters the beautiful hidden room again and sets eyes on her. He swallows visibly, then looks at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

“What?” Renee asks, raising an eyebrow. “You said to wear something that can handle bloodstains. You didn’t even mention you have a freakin’ swimming pool in your bathroom, that’s even better!”

The all-black two-piece swimsuit had seemed like an appropriate choice for something that was going to get...wet. Especially if it was going to stain. Finding out there was a huge swimming hole in the middle of the cave was just an awesome coincidence. Still, standing there in the candlelit chamber with the water reflecting bright moonlight onto the cave’s wall -- and onto her skin -- she does feel a little exposed, and she’s grateful it’s so warm inside the cave. 

She’d stuck her toes in the water a few moments earlier, surprised to find it was almost hot. There did seem to be lava visible under the metal grate flooring that covered The Pit in this version of King’s Canyon, so maybe there was lava warming the large pool of water in the cave as well, or perhaps there was some sort of heating system in the cave beyond that holo-fireplace in the vampire’s bedroom. Regardless, the grotto seemed like a lovely place for a midnight dip, despite the frigid temperatures outside. 

The vampire is practically gaping at her now, though, and once he’s recovered his composure, he still can’t keep his eyes on her face. He’s not nearly as blatant about it as his counterpart in her dimension, but the vampire is staring at her with a look that’s quite similar to the one Park had on his face the morning after Thanksgiving, when he’d all but drooled upon seeing her in the hallway, still wearing her sleep shorts and a tank top without a bra. That same awed sort of look is in the vampire’s eerily-blue eyes now as they scan every inch of her exposed skin.

And  _ fuck, _ she's staring back. He's still shirtless, which also seems appropriate, considering most of his shirts seem to be white and there doesn't appear to be a secret laundry facility in the cave. He’s been shirtless nearly the entire time she’s been there -- hell, they’d been on his bed together earlier while he was half-clothed -- and yet none of that felt anywhere near as thrilling or terrifying as seeing him that way felt now, looking at his gorgeous skin with so much of her own also on display.

_ Shit, he is so beautiful. _

_ Look at you. God _ . 

“S-So um, where--where should I sit or...I don’t know--” she stammers nervously.

_ Like, is there a chair somewhere, or can I just sit on your face? _

“Here,” he says, taking her hand and leading her to a smooth slab of rock near one of the walls of the cavernous room. 

It’s long and flat, creating a bench-like rock formation that looks perfect for sitting. Renee takes a seat and gazes up at the vampire, hoping she doesn’t look as nervous as she feels. When he approaches and kneels before her, settling between her thighs, she feels so light-headed she’s half sure she’s  _ already _ had her blood sucked.

The stunning creature kneeling in front of her reaches up to cup her right cheek, giving her a look that makes her feel like he can see her very thoughts.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she says, smiling. “I promise. Please. Please let me help you, Tae Joon.”

He gives her that familiar, pained look that makes her heart ache, but he nods. As much as she’s wishing he’d spread her legs and sink his teeth right into her, slide those strange, beautiful hands up her bare thighs and all over her, or hold her down...he doesn’t. 

Instead, he rises to his feet and reaches for the box she gave him earlier, which sits on a nearby rock. The holocuffs.

_ God dammit. I was hoping you’d forgotten about those. _

She sighs, taking the box from him. Inside is a little remote, small enough to fit on a keychain. Once she’s plucked it from the box, she looks up at the vampire and groans.

“Seriously? Behind your back? Dude, I really don’t think this is necess --”

“Renee,” he interrupts, voice sounding strained. “You  _ promised. _ Please.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, aiming the remote at his wrists and pressing a small red button.

The little remote scans Tae Joon’s wrists for a moment, and then suddenly there’s just a pair of cuffs binding them together. Renee can’t even see a spot where the cuffs open or close -- presumably, pressing the other button on the little remote de-manifests them entirely, so cuffs that open, close, and lock aren’t necessary.

“That good?” she asks, looking up at him.

After a moment of testing their strength, he nods.

Now sufficiently restrained, he turns around, kneeling between her legs again. Renee swallows thickly. No one -- neither human nor beast nor artificial life form -- has the right to look so  _ fucking good _ on their knees, she’s decided. The way he looks up at her, kneeling in those stupid, tight pants with too many pockets and no shirt and his arms bound behind him--

_ FUCK, how did I think this was a good idea? We should have done the neck. The neck would have been better. Thigh is going to kill me, oh god. _

Renee’s not entirely sure she can actually handle feeling his mouth so close to such an intimate place without begging him to put it there instead. She takes a few deep breaths, regaining some of her focus and spreading her legs a little wider for him.

“Scoot forward,” he says softly.

She does, and when he leans down towards her leg, the unruly streak of grey hair near his face brushes her thigh, making her gasp. He pulls back immediately.

“Are you--”

“I’m _ fine,” _ Renee insists, giving him what she hopes is an encouraging look. “Just tickles is all.”

“It’s going to hurt,” he murmurs, looking guilty as hell.

“I know,” she says, reaching out to stroke his beautiful face and giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m tougher than I look, old man.”

_ Oh god, please put that perfect mouth on me, I don’t care what it does to me, I don't care if it hurts, Ajay can patch me up later! Just put that fucking mouth on me, pleasepleaseplease… _

“Renee--”

“Tae Joon,  _ do it. _ Please.”

She hopes she's convincing, because after the week she's had, she feels like she's going to lose her mind if someone doesn't touch her soon. Preferably the gorgeous creature in front of her.

His chest is heaving, and he looks as scared as she feels, but he also looks fucking  _ hungry, _ and there’s something in his eyes now that scares her shitless.

Only a little bit, though, because it’s also kind of hot, the way he’s looking at her, with his pupils blown wide, licking his lips like he wants to eat her alive.

Technically speaking, he’s about to.

Nudging her thighs further apart with his shoulder, he leans in, just sort of...nuzzling the inside of her right thigh. She hears him breathe her in and groan out something in Korean, the words tickling as they vibrate between his lips and her skin. Something about the way he’s smelling her, like she’s a particularly fragrant flower, has her shuddering, cheeks burning. When the synthetic skin of his jaw grazes her skin, she whimpers softly.

“Over my shoulder,” he murmurs against the inside of her thigh, and it takes her a moment to snap out of her daze and realize what he wants.

Sheepishly, she hoists her right leg up to rest on his shoulder.

“Good,” he purrs, lips brushing against her flesh as he speaks, giving her a dangerous sort of look.

She shudders.

_ Please, please, please... _

Her hands are balled into fists and she’s holding her breath, it’s all she can do not to squeeze her eyes shut, too. She has to watch, though -- she can't tear her eyes away. The anticipation is killing her, but she doesn't want it to stop, either, because having him on his knees, half-dressed, dragging those pretty lips over her skin with his hands cuffed behind his back,  _ fuck, _ he's irresistible. She's worried the skimpy swimsuit bottoms may have been a bad choice, because she's already so wet it's embarrassing, and she's worried she might actually soak through the fabric.

_ Calm. The fuck. Down. _

_ He is just trying to get some dinner. You can beg him to eat you out later, when he’s not tied up on his fucking knees and starving, you greedy monste-- _

_ “Mmmph!” _

She can’t help but moan when she feels his tongue on her skin. He pauses, gazing up at her, hot mouth still dragging slowly up her thigh. Seemingly satisfied he hasn’t hurt her, he lets his eyes fall closed, dragging his fangs over the spot he was just licking, then sucking softly at the skin there.

Renee moans again, head falling back against the rocky wall of the cave as her fingers tangle in the vampire's silky hair -- not to pull him away, but to keep him right where he is. He chuckles darkly against her skin when she lets another needy little moan slip past her lips.

_ Fuckkkkk, this isn’t fair. Please just bite me. Make it hurt. Anything, just stop fucking teasing, please-- _

_ “Please!” _ she gasps out, fingers tightening in his hair.

She’s worried he’ll think she wants him to stop so she follows her plea up with, “J-Just do it, Tae Joon,  _ fuck, _ please…”

She feels the vibrations of his voice when he groans into her thigh, tracing that hot tongue over the spot she’s desperate for him to bite into already. She whimpers softly in the moment that follows, buzzing with nerves and trembling with anticipation, feeling his razor-sharp teeth graze her skin. Then he’s pulling back just slightly and burying both fangs into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

_“Ah! Mmmmgh,_ _fuck!”_ she cries, unable to keep her hips from jerking forward involuntarily a few times.

She’d be embarrassed at the sounds she’s making, but the sounds the vampire is making are even more shameless. He’s been moaning into her thigh since the second he tasted her, groaning with every swallowed mouthful of her sweet nectar.

It doesn’t really hurt, surprisingly. Not like she expected, anyway. There was a sharp pain initially, but now there’s just a dull ache that throbs against the vampire’s lips with every beat of her heart as he sucks her down greedily. The way his tongue feels, sliding over such a sensitive place -- it's nearly enough to make her beg, beg him to put that perfect mouth on her cunt instead... 

_ Oh my god,  _ ** _please!_ **

She’s stroking the fingers of both hands through his hair now, and the look in his stunningly blue eyes when they meet hers is so pure and sweet it takes her breath away, like tasting real food and having his hair pet is most pleasant sensation he’s felt in decades. It makes her want to cry.

But that tongue on her skin, it makes her want to  _ moan. _

He finally pulls back from her thigh after a few more torturous moments, chest heaving as he gulps down oxygen like it’s her blood. His hair is disheveled from her tugging and stroking it, and his mouth is smeared with her blood, crimson staining his fangs and dripping down onto his bare chest. 

He should be terrifying, but he just looks beautiful. He has this happy, sated, almost sleepy look in those electric blue eyes, like he just had a particularly pleasurable orgasm -- a thought Renee tries not to dwell upon for too long -- and he mumbles something that sounds like  _ ‘thank you,’ _ against her thigh as he continues licking at the wound.

She tries to respond but all that comes out is another soft cry when she feels that hot tongue on her skin again.

“You--you taste  _ so _ good, _ jeongmal masisseo,”  _ he groans into her flesh, “So delicious…”

_ God, he's gorgeous. Why is this so fucking hot? What is wrong with me? _

After a few more moments spent lapping at her wounded thigh, he pulls back again and rests his forehead against her knee, catching his breath.

“Can I let you out of those now, please?” Renee asks breathlessly, dangling the holocuffs’ remote in front of him. 

He nods, and she presses the grey button next to the one she pressed to scan his wrists. The handcuffs disappear like one of Elliott’s decoys, freeing the vampire's hands. He immediately slips one between her legs, sliding his palm up her thigh to press firmly against the wound. For a few moments, neither of them speak. They just gaze at each other, catching their breath and trying to force their minds to come back down from the heavens where they’ve both been hovering.

“Here,” the vampire says after a moment, replacing his hand with her own and pressing it into the wound. “Keep pressure on it. I’ll be right back.”

Renee nods, feeling rather dazed. She’s pretty sure it’s not from the blood loss.

When he returns, it’s with what looks like a med kit in hand. Wordlessly, he kneels in front of her again and digs a cloth out of the med kit, leaning over to dip it in the water at the edge of the pool in the center of the strange, beautiful little room. Renee gets distracted looking at the waterfall, then gazing up through the many cracks in the cave’s ceiling and peering into the night sky above.

Her attention snaps back to the vampire when she feels something warm and wet against her thigh and realizes he’s cleaning the blood off her with the damp cloth. For some reason, she finds this particularly sweet, as she’d been planning to just hop in the pool to rinse off once she’d regained her mental and physical faculties.

_ Kinda liked it better last time, when you cleaned me up with your tongue, though... _

“Are you feeling alright?” the vampire asks, breaking the silence as he wipes blood away from the thigh he didn’t bite, making her wonder distantly how it even got that far. 

He was right, it  _ is _ a mess. 

“Was that -- I didn’t want to take too much, you’re so small and I--I don’t want to hurt you…” he says for the five-gazillionth time.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, huffing out a laugh and rubbing at her face. “Little dizzy, but I’ll be honest -- I’m not sure if that has anything to do with losing blood.” 

She grins at him, winking.

The vampire looks flustered, but there’s a small smile on his face as he reaches back into the med kit for a bandage.

“Oh! Hey, no, I’ve got the thingy--uhh, oh! Over there, my backpack,” she points across the cavernous room to where her purple backpack sits atop a rock.

Once he’s retrieved it, she pulls the little handheld device from her bag. Immediately, he snatches it from her hand, nudging her thighs apart and settling back between them. She watches him with an eyebrow cocked. Gently pushing her right thigh a little further from her left, he leans forward and holds the little whirring skin-repair device over her wound.

“You know how to use that?” 

Apparently he does. She shudders a little at how cool his hands are when he presses a synthetic palm into her leg. The sensation isn’t unpleasant, though, and she wonders what those cold, mechanically-modified hands would feel like touching other parts of her...

“It’s been years since I’ve seen one. Obviously,” he gestures to the scars on his chest, making Renee’s own chest ache a little. “But, yes, I’ve used them before.”

_ Probably a stupid quesiton. He is, like, partially full of robot parts and stuff. _

She promptly asks an even stupider question.

“So...why is everything all old-timey in this dimension, but also, like...not?”

_ Genius. You’re a paragon of eloquence, Renee. _

“You might not have noticed, but the sun fell out of the sky," he says matter-of-factly. "There was no electricity for several decades while the planet was ruled by a cult.”

“Oh, so just this planet is fucked, not the whole dimension?”

“I’m not sure I can really comment on that, but this planet does indeed seem to be particularly  _ fucked _ compared to the rest of our worlds,” he replies.

He’s smirking a little bit, and she feels like an idiot because hearing him curse like that shouldn’t turn her on, but it does. The vampire always speaks politely, in an almost weirdly-formal tone. Hearing that pretty mouth drop an F-bomb is kind of hot.

_ No it isn’t! _

Yes, it is.

\----

Elliott is having a very strange dream. 

It’s  _ absolutely  _ a dream, though, because it’s far too delicious to happen to him in real life. He’s fangs-deep in a soft, pale thigh, and though he can’t see who it belongs to, he already knows. He can tell from the taste of the blood -- it’s Renee.

Elliott kneels before her, nestled between her parted thighs as he laps up every delicious drop of her, unable to keep from moaning into her flesh. That’s alright, though, because Renee is moaning, too. Her fingers are threaded through his hair, but she’s not pushing or pulling, just shuddering under his mouth and trying to keep him there, between her thighs.

_ Fine by me, beautiful. _

When he finally pulls his fangs from her skin, he’s met with another shocking revelation: Renee is in her underwear. Wait, no, it’s a swimsuit -- but same difference, in terms of amount of exposed skin. Elliott’s never seen her this exposed before, and feels his cock hardening as he looks up at her, licking her blood from his lips as her heartbeat throbs in his head. 

He’s not hungry for blood now, though. He’s hungry for something else. When Renee grips his hair tighter, hips thrusting forward involuntarily, Elliot thinks he might just get that ‘something else.’ She tastes so  _ fucking good, _ Elliott wants to drink her forever...but he knows he can’t. 

That’s alright, though, because there’s somewhere else he wants to put his mouth. He can smell her arousal, and from where he sits between her thighs, he can see the little spot of moisture that’s beginning to soak through the fabric separating her from his hungry mouth. His cock throbs at the sight, and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to pull that fabric to the side and taste what lies beneath it.

Still lapping at the wound on her leg, he lets his tongue drift inward a little, swiping between her thighs, right where the suit meets her skin. She moans again, whimpering when his tongue drags over the same spot a second time. 

_ Fuck it, _ Elliott thinks.  _ It’s a dream, I don’t have to feel guilty for doing what I want. _

What Elliott wants -- very,  _ very _ much -- is to taste her sweet cunt, lick her out until she’s sobbing his name and cumming all over his tongue. He’s pretty sure the Renee in the dream wants it, too. But when he goes to push her thighs further apart and tug her swimsuit bottoms to the side, he discovers something absolutely  _ terrible. _

His hands are bound behind his back, wrists trapped in a pair of holo-cuffs.

_ God fucking dammit.  _

_ This dream SUCKS. _

\----

“So the sun, what happened there? In my dimension this planet is like, known for its sun,” Renee muses once they’re both dressed again and back in the vampire’s room. 

They’re sitting on the bed because she’s slightly dizzy. 

That is definitely why.

“I am not sure,” the vampire says, looking surprisingly bitter about it. “But I have my theories.”

He glares at the floor.

“Uh-huh...so there used to be a sun here, too?” Renee asks, curious about every part of the strange, dark dimension. “How long ago was that?”

“Many years. Before I had even come to this planet,” Tae Joon replies, staring at the canopy over his bed, red velvet with a swirling black filigree pattern.

“And how many--how long have you, y’know, been like this?” she asks, feeling rude but unable to contain her curiosity.

He’s quiet for a very long time, and for a moment, Renee thinks she’s fucked up. When he speaks again his voice is soft. Small, somehow. Just...sad.

“A little over 300 years.”

_ “Fuck _ dude,” she can’t help but exclaim. “I am so sorry. That is so fucked-up, what happened to you. Is--do you know if she’s still alive?”

He’s quiet for another long stretch.

“It is possible, though I doubt it. The entire facility closed quietly under suspicious circumstances several years after I was imprisoned here. Though she was -- we all were -- what you might call life-extension enthusiasts. God only knows what kind of gene editing she performed on herself,” he sighs, looking away. “Still, she didn’t...mutilate herself nearly as much as she did me. I doubt she could have lasted this long, and if she had, surely she’d have shown up to torture me some more by now. I have seen a few of her other creations roaming the island, but it seems only the most grotesque of us survived this long.”

“You’re not grotesque! You’re--”  _ don’t fucking say it, Renee, _ “You’re beautiful!” 

_ Son of a bitch. _

The vampire laughs mirthlessly, scoffing like she’s absolutely full of it. He’s blushing though.

“You have a strange concept of beauty, Renee,” he says flatly. “Do you find the other monsters on this planet to be beautiful?”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” she snaps, thinking of the version of Ajay she'd seen in one of her dreams. “Scary, sure. Fucked-up and sad, definitely. But still beautiful. The Shadows are beautiful, in their own spooky little way. The moon is beautiful. The way the animals here glow is beautiful. This cave is beautiful,” she pauses for a moment before adding, “And so is everything in it.”

"I’ll give you that last one, but only because  _ you _ are what’s in this cave right now,” he replies with a sly grin. “And you are very, very beautiful, Renee.”

The way he’s looking at her now has her heart pounding and her face flushing, and it’s very hard to resist the urge to just push him back on the bed and climb on top of him, but Renee knows that would be unbelievably manipulative and selfish of her, as would making any kind of move on him, because he is, hands down, the most vulnerable person she’s ever met. He’s had terrible, awful, sick things done to him, and she’s promised to help him. That help includes feeding him. It does  _ not _ include fucking him, tragically.

“Yeah, well, takes one to know one,” she says lamely. “So there, you’re beautiful, too.”

He chuckles, and she hops off the bed to retrieve her backpack from the floor.

“I almost forgot, here’s your actual Christmas present. It’s nothing special, I just didn’t want your only gift to be  _ handcuffs, _ for fuck’s sake. Plus, I figured this place could use a little holiday cheer, you know?” she beams at him, handing him another glittery black package with a purple bow.

He takes it, but gives her a skeptical look.

“Open it!”

After he’s carefully removed the glittery wrapping paper --  _ of  _ ** _course _ ** _ he’s one of those people that spends forever unwrapping their presents oh-so-delicately, ugh _ \-- he pulls the little holoemitter from its box and looks back at her expectantly.

“Well, come on! Here, uhhh--” she scans his bedroom for a moment, looking for the most ideal spot. “Ah! Right here. Sit it on the floor and push the button!”

She feels giddy for some reason. She’s never really given half a fuck about Christmas -- not that she remembers, anyway -- but for some reason, this year she’s really getting into the holiday spirit.

The vampire carefully places the little glass pyramid on the floor near an empty corner of the room, then presses the button, stepping back. It begins to glow slightly blue, and a moment later a Christmas tree appears, a fluffy white pine with long, thin needles. It’s at least eight feet tall, and it’s completely black -- branches, needles, everything. Hung from its dark limbs are an assortment of white snowflake and ice cicle-shaped ornaments that seem to glow from within, and rotate independently from where they hang. Peeking out from deep within the branches is the glow of red LED lights, wrapped around the tree from top to bottom. The tree itself seems to almost sparkle, the black pine needles shimmering like the glittery dark paper Renee had used to wrap the present.

“You don’t have to, like, keep it on or anything if you don’t like it, I--I know it’s a little, uh...nontraditional, appearance-wise,” she laughs nervously.

“It’s perfect,” Tae Joon says, beaming at her.  _ “Seonmul gomabseubnida. Neomu mame deuleoyo. _ I love it, Renee. Thank you.”

She grins.

Going to his dresser, Tae Joon opens one of the wooden drawers and pulls something small out. When he approaches her again, he looks almost nervous.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says softly. “It’s just...something that I want you to have.”

He presents her with a small golden box, tied with a thin red ribbon. Renee gasps when she opens it. Inside, she finds a pair of beautiful silver earrings, each with a fat, teardrop-shaped ruby dangling from the bottom of its stud, outlined by a thin halo of tiny black diamonds. 

_ ‘Nothing fancy,’ my ass! _

“Tae Joon, I can’t--you shouldn’t have, really, I can’t take--”

“Please,” he interrupts her. “I have had them for many years. They waste away in a box with no one to wear them. I want them to be yours. Please, Renee.”

Looking at his face makes her heart ache, so she looks down at the earrings...but that only makes it worse.

“They’re beautiful, Tae Joon,” she breathes out, suddenly nervous for some reason. “Thank you.”

He nods, smiling.  _ “Cheonmaneyo. _ Here, you should try them on.”

He holds the box for her as she affixes each earring to her ears with trembling fingers. When she’s finished, she can feel the cool metal of them just barely brushing against her neck when she turns her head. She’s never worn anything other than plain little studs -- at least, that she can remember -- before, but this pair _ is  _ stunning. 

_ Maybe it’s time for me to be a little more open-minded, fashion-wise. _

“What do you think?” she asks him with a smile, stepping close and tilting her head to the side to give him a better view.

“Beautiful,” he replies, and something about the tone of his voice has changed. “And so are the earrings.”

Before she can really register his words, he’s closed the space between them and is tilting her chin back to face him. When their eyes meet, he looks like he’s at war with himself, tortured by something. She’s just about to ask if he’s alright when one side or the other evidently wins out, and he pulls her closer, bringing their lips together in a deep kiss that takes her breath away. Renee can’t help but squeak with surprise, but then she’s moaning into his mouth, letting him slip his hot tongue between her lips and taste as much of her as he desires.

_ Oh god, yes. Fuck yes. Is this seriously happening? _

His lips are soft and his mouth is hot, and for the millionth time since she first felt it on her skin all those weeks ago, she wonders how that devilish tongue would feel slipping between a different pair of lips...

The thought has her moaning into the kiss again, gasping when he threads the fingers of both hands through her hair and grips it firmly, not pulling, just...holding. Holding her in place while he kisses her just as hungrily as he drank her down when he fed earlier.

He groans when she gently tugs his lower lip between her teeth, like he’s barely resisting the urge to throw her down on his bed and ravish her. Quite frankly, she desperately wishes he would. She releases his bottom lip and then his mouth is on hers again, kissing her like he wants to suck the very air from her lungs.

_ Ugh, please fuck me. _

_ No!--What?--That cannot happen, holy shit. You can’t handle it, first of all. He might not be able to, either. God knows if anybody’s touched him in 300 years-- _

She sighs softly when he pulls away from her mouth to drag his lips along her jaw and down the side of her neck, leaving gentle kisses in his wake. Then he’s pulling back and bringing their lips together again, licking into her mouth and walking her back towards the bed behind them.

_ Oh, this is  _ ** _totally_ ** _ happening. Suck it, Brain. _

_ Mmmm, god, this is the hottest thing that’s ever-- _

She jerks away when something slices open her bottom lip.

_ “Ow!” _ she yelps, reflexively reaching up to press her fingers against her mouth. 

They come away covered in blood. 

_ Oh, his teeth. _

“Renee, forgive me, please,” he gasps, eyes wide and chest heaving like it was while he was feeding from her. “I shouldn’t have--I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful, I--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, seriously,” she interrupts, pressing one bloodied fingertip against his lips and sighing when he sucks it between them, licking it clean. “It’s not the end of the world. You know I get shot for a living, right?”

That gets a chuckle out of him, but it’s not long before he’s looking somber again.

She smiles at him, pulling her finger out of his mouth. Before he can object, she rolls up onto her tip-toes, leaning forward and placing a hand on his chest as she brings their lips back together, kissing him more gently than before.

He groans when he tastes the blood leaking from her lip, slipping his tongue over the tiny wound. When they finally come up for air, he thumbs the little cut with a concerned look on his face.

“This is what happens when you get too close to a monster. You get hurt,” he says softly, gazing at her with a look she can’t quite place. “I’m sorry, Renee.”

“Please,” she replies, sliding her hand up the side of his pretty, gilded throat. “Don’t be sorry.”

Then she kisses him again.

  
  


\--------

  
  


_ “Mnnnnngh…” _

Park groans as he’s dragged into wakefulness by a very excited Elliott, who has pounced on top of him like a hungry prowler.

“Wake up, lazy bones. It’s Christmas!” the trickster chirps cheerfully, leaning down to plant a soft little kiss on the hacker’s lips.

He goes to pull back but Crypto won’t let him, keeping Elliott pinned to him as he rolls them over so that the trickster is beneath him. When he finally breaks the kiss, Elliott is staring up at him with wide eyes, gasping.

“I know it’s your favorite holiday,” Park purrs, looking devious. “But you’ve been a  _ very _ naughty boy this year,  _ nae sarang. _ So naughty I’m not sure I should give you your Christmas present…”

He trails off, relishing the pouty, aghast look on his boyfriend’s handsome face. Then he leans down, bringing his lips so close they brush against Elliott’s throat when he finishes his sentence. 

“...unless you can prove you’re a good boy, that is.”

\--

_ “Fuck,  _ Elliott!” Park cries out, fisting Elliott’s hair a little tighter when the trickster takes him deep.

Elliott is on his knees, gazing up at Park with a look of pure adoration as he swallows around the man’s thick cock. His lips are pink and puffy, drool leaking down his chin and dripping down onto his own aching cock.

“So good, fuck…” his boyfriend groans, thrusting gently into his throat. 

Elliott moans around him, forcing a few more curse words out of the man above him when he does.

“You’re being such a good boy, letting me fuck this pretty throat,” Park growls, voice ragged with lust as he approaches his peak. “Maybe you deserve to make the Nice list this year-- _ hnnnngh _ yes,  _ fuck...” _

_ Cum for me, baby. I want to taste you… _

Park groans, thrusting deeper, and Elliot can feel the man’s cock twitching on his tongue.

_ Mmmmm, that’s right...  _

_ Fuck my dirty little mouth, make me be good, please… _

_ “Ssibal!” _ Hyeon sobs when Elliott swallows around him again, moaning. 

“Just like that,” he groans, fucking into Elliott’s throat a little less gently. “Fuck, _ jagi,  _ you’re so  _ good _ at this...”

_ “Mhmmmnghh,” _ is all Elliott can really say at the moment.

It’s all he needs to say, apparently, because a few thrusts later, Hyeon is pulling out and covering Elliott’s lips and tongue in his cum, moaning something that Elliott can’t understand.

_ Dammit. New Years resolution: learn Korean so you can hear all the filthy shit he won’t say in English. _

After swallowing every drop with an audible gulp, Elliott looks up at Hyeon with as much innocence as he can muster and asks, “Am I a good boy now?”

“Yes,” Park says with a grin, helping Elliott up. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

Then he pushes the trickster back onto the bed, where he lands with a surprised little yelp as Park kneels, crawling between his thighs.

_ “Mmmm, oh-!” _

\-----

Once Park has finished earning his place on the Naughty list, he lets Elliott lead him to the Christmas tree that’s nestled in the corner of their suite on the  _ Mirage Voy-age. _ The trickster bends down, plucking a small gold box from beneath the tree and presenting it to him.

“Open it!” Elliott urges him, grinning from ear to ear.

Park removes the black ribbon and opens the box. Inside is a silver chain with a small silver pendant hanging from the middle. It’s engraved with a familiar Korean word.

**애인. ** _ Aein. _ The word roughly translates to ‘lover’ or ‘sweetheart’ in English.

“I figured it wouldn’t stick out too much, since you already wear, like, fifty necklaces every day anyway,” Elliott stammers, sounding nervous. “Y-You don’t have to wear it or anything. I just, um, w-wanted you to have it.”

Once he’s absolutely sure he’s not going to cry, Park looks up, meeting Elliott’s eyes with a smile. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

_ You’re perfect. I love you. _

Elliott’s beaming once he sees that his gift is well-received, and the man looks positively jubilant when he watches Park put it on. As much as Park wants to drag him back to their bed and spend the next hour or so worshipping every inch of that _ perfect fucking body _ with his mouth, he can’t. He still has to give Elliott his gift, and he’s suddenly terrified.

_ What if it weirds him out? What if he hates it? What if he’s mad at me for snooping around in his personal life? _

Taking a deep breath, Tae Joon presents him with the small green box he’s been nervously carrying around in his backpack for the last couple of days. Elliott snatches it from his hand before he can think better of it, pulling off the holographic bow and tearing off the green paper. Inside is a holoemitter.

“I--this might not be--” Park stutters, but it’s too late -- Witt’s already placed the holoemitter on the floor and pressed the button.

Elliott’s jaw drops when the hologram materializes.

_ “Mom?” _

Evelyn’s hologram smiles, approaching Elliott and pulling him into one of her rib-breaking hugs. “Yes, dear. Merry Christmas!”

Elliott squeezes her tight for a few moments before pulling back.

“W-what--how did--” Elliott seems a little lost for words.

“I think I’ll give you two a little privacy,” Evelyn’s hologram says, smooching Elliott on the cheek and winking at Park. “If you need me, sunshine, you know where I’ll be.” 

Then she disappears back into her holoemitter.

Elliott is wide-eyed but silent, and Park suddenly feels the anxious urge to fill that silence.

“I know it’s a little weird. I just...I know you miss her, and--”  _ And it’s all my fault you’re stuck on this planet to begin with. _ “--and she’s been, uh, teaching me how to--”

“You  _ made _ this?” Elliott asks, mouth agape.

“W-with your mother’s help, yes.” 

Elliott looks down at his hands. He’s barely said a word since opening the gift.   
  


“I know you’ve been missing her,” Tae Joon murmurs. “And I thought you might enjoy talking to her, seeing her in-person -- uh, sort of -- from time to time. She’s not--it’s not  _ really _ her, of course. It’s like one of your decoys. But it has her personality and all of her memories, and it will never age, never get ill, never…” he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence with the real reason for the gift.

_ It’ll never forget who you are. _

Elliott bursts into tears. 

For a moment, Park fears that he has  _ majorly  _ fucked up. But then Elliott’s throwing himself into his arms, sobbing “Th-thank y-y-you s-so mu-u-uch,” into his chest and squeezing him so tight it almost hurts.

The pretty trickster buries his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder, shaking from how hard he’s sobbing. As Park stands there, holding him close and petting his hair, he finds that he’s immensely grateful for the fact that Elliott can’t see his face in their current position.

Because his allergies are suddenly acting up again.

\---

What Tae Joon doesn’t know, as he pulls Elliott back into their bed, is that the Elliott in his arms isn’t the only Elliott on the ship. Which wouldn’t be that strange or alarming, really, if not for the fact that every holoemitter on the ship is currently powered off.

Or was, at least.

If he weren’t so distracted by Elliott’s perfect body and making it sing for him, Park may have noticed the decoy peering into the bedroom through the crack in the door. And if his gorgeous boyfriend’s moans weren’t so shamelessly loud, he might have been able to hear what the voyeur whispered, grinning with pointed teeth as it watched them from the doorway.

_ “Soon, darling. It’s been  _ ** _far_ ** _ too fucking long.”  _

_\------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAAAAAA you didn't think I'd give you a chapter THIS fluffy and not end it with a foreboding cliffhanger, did you?
> 
> I have _so_ much to say about this chapter, idek y'all. I straight up cried writing Renee's dream and the Christmas morning scene. Fuck, my heart. Anyway, as usual, expect minor edits/corrections + unnoticed typos & shit. I'm trying, y'all. Proofreading this shit takes FOREVER.
> 
> Did you love it? Did you hate it? Did it make your, uh, allergies start acting up? Did you have a nice Christmas? Tell me in the comments! (And on [this hellscape of a website.](https://holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com/))
> 
> We'll be back to your regularly-scheduled life-ruining in the New Year, once I've finished The Outer Worlds. That's all for now, folks! Happy New Year!
> 
> Next time, on _This Fic Is Now Longer Than the Third Harry Potter Book, Jesus Fuckin' Christ:_ Renee makes a surprising discovery -- in both dimensions. Tae Joon works on a new project, and struggles to maintain his double-life. Elliott keeps a very dark secret.
> 
> P.S.: I have named Crypto's cat Saja ("lion") until we hear otherwise. Yes, I know he (or she) is pictured in concept art for Crypto's bedroom on the dropship, but I imagine going off the grid with a fucking cat in tow would be rather difficult. So Mystik is catsitting, for now. But don't worry, we will meet ya boi's furry lil friend eventually. (:
> 
> P.P.S.: As some of you know, this whole goddamn disaster was initially inspired by and meant to entertain my girl [RomanticallyInept.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticallyinept/works) Merry Christmas, bitch! You ruined my life with this Cryptage bullshit, I'm just tryna return the favor. ;)


	11. Body Modification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What...w-what _are_ you?” Renee gasps, clawing at the impossibly strong hand around her throat. 
> 
> Park sees a few chips of red paint flake off under her nails, fluttering to the floor. The nightmarish thing tilts its head just slightly, as if considering her question.
> 
> “It’s just a bad dream,” it replies, but it’s not even watching her anymore, it’s staring right at Park as it speaks. “It’ll be over soon.”
> 
> \-------
> 
> Park faces his nightmares. Elliott faces himself. Renee dreams of a life that she hasn't actually lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been up all night. I have a fever, I’m full of snot, and I feel like refried assbutts. I haven’t even touched Apex yet today.
> 
> But I fucking did it. Chapter 11 of Spider Byte has gone live. Give it a read once y'all need to take a break from getting yeeted to death by the Revenant.
> 
> I can't believe it's finally done! I can't thank you enough for the kind words and support, this chapter just about drove me insane. So much crazy shit is happening, I don't even know where to begin. I hope you guys like it. I don't think I've ever had so much fun writing dialogue. 
> 
> TRIGGER FUCKING WARNING: Shit gets dark. Y'all have been warned repeatedly. There's a lot of body horror, and there is a brief non-con scene, but I think you guys will forgive me once you've finished reading. Still, I'm not kidding. Don't like, don't fuckin' read, mmkay?
> 
> Now it's time for me to go play some goddamn Apex Legends. Revenant mains, rise up!
> 
> P.S. In the scene where Crypto's wearing that Hype Beast skin, I pretty much chose to totally ignore the fact that it says his rEAL FUCKENING NAME on the collar, because that doesn't make ANY GOD DAMN SENSE, RESPAWN.

She was dreaming. She knew for sure, because she was floating in the Voidless place, and she wasn’t dead, or even close to it. She felt...fine. Good, even. There was no screaming -- there were no voices at all, actually. She could move her limbs and breathe, unlike the first time she’d been inside it. Her hair and clothing floated upwards, as if weightless, but her body remained on the ground...or wherever the ground would be, if there were one. She watched the silver kunai necklace Hyeon had given her for Christmas as it floated upward, weightless but still clasped around her neck.

Though not paralyzed like she’d been when she first entered the Voidless place, she found that she was still restrained. Something hard and cold -- metal, maybe? -- was wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides and tethering her back to something large and solid behind her. She couldn’t begin to guess what it might be, and couldn’t turn her head far enough to see. She could feel it, though -- it was solid, but it _ moved. _

The restraints around her middle started to move, too -- not releasing her, just drifting down her torso, almost as if--

_ Wait, what? _

She blew her weightless, floating hair out of her face -- there seemed to be a lot of it, like it would extend past her waist if it were subject to the laws of gravity. Almost like it had never been shaved off in the first place. With her hair no longer obscuring her vision, she glanced downwards. What she saw made her gasp.

The strange metal objects binding her arms weren’t restraints, they were _ hands. _ Hands connected to metal arms that wrapped around her torso.

_ What the FUCK-- _

She watched as a robotic hand came up to gently wrap around her throat, the other drifting down her torso to slip between her thighs...which were naked. _ All _ of her was naked, she realized quite suddenly.

_ Oh my god. Am I fucking Pathfinder? _

_ God dammit, Elliott! This is all your fault! _

Deep down, she was a little bit relieved. As it was set in the Voidless place, she’d fully expected the dream to be another horrifying flashback to deeds done by a different Renee. Thankfully, it seemed this dream was of the normal variety, taking bits and pieces of things she’d experienced in real life -- the Voidless place, the pretty silver necklace from Hyeon, the details she’d learned about Pathfinder at Thanksgiving -- and smashing them together in a nonsensical (though admittedly entertaining) chain of events that rarely made any sense. It was kind of a relief, having a normal-person dream for once.

She gasped when she felt two cool, metal fingers drag through the slick between her thighs. When she looked down again, she noticed an odd black vapor (or perhaps it was smoke?) beginning to curl around her lower legs. It rolled in like the morning fog on Talos, starting at her ankles before rising up to thigh-level with a strange sort of swirling motion.

_ Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly a _ ** _normal_**_-person dream... _

With little warning, both artificial fingers shoved roughly into her cunt, curling cruelly against a spot that made her thighs start to shake. The hand around her throat pulled her closer to the robot behind her, and she moaned when she felt something long, hard, and smooth pressing insistently against her backside.

_ Oh god, is that… _

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a _ little _bit curious what that fabled attachment might feel like inside her.

“Please,” left her lips before she even thought the word.

The fingers buried in her cunt withdrew, and a moment later they were pressing into her mouth so she could suck them clean.

_ Holy shit. _

_ Octane wasn’t kidding. Pathfinder _ ** _fucks._ **

She felt the smooth metal tip of the attachment graze her cunt when the robot jerked its hips forward, making her shudder. Behind her, the MRVN made a noise halfway between a groan and a broken food replicator.

_ Why am I like this? This is so fucked. _

_ ...kind of hot, though. _

He teased her entrance with the head of his artificial cock, and she groaned in frustration.

_ C’mon, Path. Fuck me. _

_ Christ almighty, did I really just think that? _

She not only thought it -- seconds later, it came out of her mouth.

“Please fuck me,” she heard herself say. “Please.”

_ WOW, _ said the very judgmental voice in her head.

_ Do you know how long it’s been since I--since we got laid? _

_ Yeah, me neither. So shut the fuck up and let me enjoy this. _

Her conscience sighed. _ Fine. _

Frustrated, she jerked her hips back and succeeded in dragging her cunt along the length of the MRVN’s metal cock.

The robot _ moaned, _ a sound she’d never heard him make before. He was being awfully quiet overall, but she supposed that was understandable -- Renee couldn’t imagine how this little encounter would actually go down in real life, and since it was taking place in her subconscious, it made sense the robot wasn’t saying much. There wasn’t a whole lot to say besides _ “You are a fucking weirdo, friend. (:” _

Renee was distracted from her thoughts when the robot pulled away, one metal hand leaving her for a moment as he guided his length into her soaking core. The surface of his cock was so smooth that, combined with the slightly-embarrassing amount of wetness between Renee’s thighs, he slid all the way into her in a single, frictionless thrust.

“Oh _ fuck--” _ she heard herself gasp.

The hand around her throat tightened and she shuddered, still rendered speechless by the sudden intrusion that was splitting her open so deliciously.

The robot didn’t even pull back, he just thrust forward harder, stealing all of the air from her lungs.

_ Oh my god. _

Just when she’d started to adjust to his size, Pathfinder’s attachment began to vibrate. She nearly screamed, twisting in the robot’s arms, but he held her fast -- she couldn’t have escaped if she wanted to.

She _ didn’t _ want to, though. 

The robot let out another groan that took her by surprise, thrusting so deep she felt it in her belly and holding her there, impaled on his vibrating cock. He circled her clit with the metal fingers of the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her throat and she felt herself clench around him, sobbing at the stretch, at the pleasure, at the pain, and cumming so hard she was sure she wouldn’t survive it. A gush of wetness leaked down around his cock as she writhed in the robot’s grip, beginning to whine with overstimulation.

Her pleas went ignored. The artificial man behind her simply released her throat, choosing instead to seize a fistful of her hair as it floated weightlessly around them, yanking her head back a little and beginning to fuck her at a brutal pace, cock still vibrating as he plundered her cunt.

Renee had no control over the sounds each thrust tore from her lips as the robot fucked her deep. She sobbed unintelligibly as he pounded her, filling her to the point of sweet pain with every thrust. His grip on her hair tightened when she began to clench around him again, drawing close to the edge for a second time.

“So close, please,” said someone who sounded very much like her, though she was sure she was incapable of speech at the moment. It was true, though. The way the normally gentle, laid-back robot was savagely pounding into her abused cunt had her tightening up around his cock, so close to cumming she could almost taste it.

“Please, please--”

Suddenly the hand not buried in her hair was clamping over her mouth.

_ Goddamn, robot boy. Kinky. _

The hand in her hair gave it a rough tug, and it was over. Her eyes rolled back, head lolling back on his shoulder as he refused to release her, continuing to fuck her at an inhuman pace as she came around him for the second time. 

The robot groaned, his voice so impossibly low and deep it made Renee’s eyes pop open in confusion, even as her orgasm continued forcing its way through her.

When she saw what loomed behind her, she gasped -- or would have, if there weren’t a metal hand over her mouth -- tightening up around the robot’s artificial cock so hard it made her wince. She would have screamed, but her breath was stolen by the sheer shock of what she was seeing.

_ What the _ ** _FUCK._ **

It wasn’t Pathfinder.

No, a _ different _robot had his cock buried in her. She couldn’t quite tell what kind he was with her head yanked back in its current position, but she could make out one very stark difference from the friendly robot she knew from the games:

This one had its head and face obscured by a red cowl and a mask that resembled _ a human skull. _

She was frozen. She wanted to twist out of his arms but for some reason her body wasn’t cooperating. Her limbs weren’t fighting and her mouth was still moaning, and as she felt the robot’s cock begin to twitch within her, she realized with horror that she couldn’t move because _ it wasn’t her dream. _

_ Oh fuck. _

She stared up into two yellow eyes that glowed like a Shadow’s, peering down at her from behind the skull-like mask as he continued thrusting into her, groaning as he filled her cunt with...something cool and slippery. It leaked out of her slowly, dripping down her thighs. The blackish smoke almost seemed to be emanating from the robot itself, vapor rising high enough that it poured into her lungs with each labored breath. She expected it to make her cough into the frightening creature’s hand, but she didn’t. Instead she sighed, relaxing in his arms and breathing deep.

Finally the vibrations ceased and he released her mouth, smoothing his artificial hand over the side of her head to push the floating strands of her hair out of the way. He leaned in, and she felt the strange sensation of his mask against her skin as he nuzzled her throat.

_ What in the fuck, who is this…thing? _

Then he chuckled, and spoke with a voice so deep it vibrated in Renee’s chest.

A _ familiar _voice.

The voice of the announcer from the Shadowfall games.

“Darling, did you miss me?” he asked, resting his artificial jaw on her shoulder. His voice carried just the slightest hint of predatory mocking in its tone, every word spoken like a joke that only he was in on.

_ Oh god... _

As much as every single atom in Renee’s body was _ screaming _ for her to escape by any means necessary, she didn’t. She _ couldn’t. _

It wasn’t really her body, after all.

Against all her instincts, she felt herself smile, puppeteered by her murderous doppelganger from the Shadow dimension. 

“More than you can possibly imagine,” she replied, reaching up with one hand to tenderly stroke the side of her lover’s masked face.

Renee could hear distant voices -- her voices -- echoing in her head. 

_ RUN, _ they screamed. _ GET AWAY FROM IT. GO. _

Instead, she turned to face the terrifying creation, whatever the hell it was, and leaned forward.

_ NO! _

Just before her lips made contact with the robot’s maw, Renee jolted awake, alone in her bed.

“Fuck,” she breathed, shuddering.

_ What the fuck was that thing? Did I--did she seriously fuck that? _

_ Tae Joon wasn’t kidding. The Voidless place really did make that bitch go insane. _

Renee decided she needed a shower. Everything about what she’d just experienced made her feel dirty inside and out.

Peeling back her comforter, she suddenly became aware of the fact that her underwear and sleep shorts were soaked all the way though with her arousal.

_ Ugh, gross. _

Willing herself to forget what she’d just witnessed, she peeled off the last of her clothes and stepped under the soothing spray of her shower. Part of her hoped it would cleanse her mind as well as her body.  
  
The lights began to flicker -- something that had become annoyingly common all over the arena in recent days -- but after a moment, they stabilized.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---------

**11:15AM Renee: **Holy shit, Park. What in the actual, proper fuck are you wearing?

**11:16AM Hyeon:** What, you don’t like it?

**11:16AM Renee:** No, it’s great. Exposed skin makes it a lot easier for my knife to bleed you out.

**11:16AM Renee: **Hope you’ve got some band-aids in those fucking pants. You definitely have the pocket space.

**11:17AM Hyeon: **I’ve got all kinds of things in these fucking pants, Renee. :)

Renee felt herself flush. Hyeon wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. Lately he’d been taking any opportunity he got to fuck with her. This outfit, though. _ Jesus fucking Christ, _ it was worse than Elliott’s Nutcracker pants -- which was really saying something -- and she couldn’t even _ pretend _to stop staring. Every bit of him just looked so...lickable.

_ That synthetic skin, god fucking help me. Shit, the real skin, too. Those fucking tattoos. It isn’t _ ** _fair._ **

It was so hard not to give in. She wanted more than anything to drag him to her bed and yank that silly coat off, finally get her hands and lips and tongue on that delicious, perfectly-toned stomach and tease him until he begged.

She wanted to sink her teeth into some of that beautiful skin, but she’d settle for sinking her knife into it instead. A good match felt like just about the only thing that could relieve some of the tension. Tension that had started building the moment she’d seen the vampire shirtless, felt his lips and tongue and teeth against her skin. He wasn’t making things any easier for her. She could barely get him to touch her, especially since he’d accidentally cut her lip on Christmas Eve. He still lost control now and then, let her kiss him, but he wouldn’t let himself lay a finger on her, least of all while feeding, and the moment any kissing started getting good, he pulled away. And he always looked so god damn sad, she couldn’t bring herself to argue with him.

But she was only human, and she only had so much patience. Hyeon was almost impossible to be around, because the way he looked at her told her he would _ absolutely _ put his hands on her -- and his mouth, probably -- and that he wouldn’t pull away if she were to get close enough to kiss him.

And _ fuck, _ did she want to kiss him.

But she didn’t feel right doing it without Elliott there, because it was his boyfriend, for fuck’s sake, and she felt like she needed his explicit permission for each and every explicit thing she wanted to do to said boyfriend. 

Well, and because Elliott was hot as fuck, too.

But that couldn’t happen. If Elliott got involved, if the vampire heard it -- or worse, if he _ saw _ it -- everything would be ruined. Renee didn’t know exactly what she was to the beautiful man in the cave, but she knew that whatever they had was fragile. The slightest misstep could ruin all the trust he’d placed in her, make him pull away for good and go back to living half-starved. It could make him not want to kiss her anymore, and though the brief, chaste kisses they did share would never, _ ever _ be enough...the thought of losing them altogether wasn’t something she felt she could survive. At the very least, this way she still got to feel his tongue on her thigh, when she could convince him to eat something. 

But he still wouldn’t touch her, still demanded that his hands be bound before he’d even _ think _ of bringing his mouth to her skin, and with the way the man was galavanting around shirtless in her own dimension, trying to tempt her, trying to fucking _ ruin _ her...she wasn’t sure how long she was going to last. A part of her prayed that Elliott’s decoy would come crawling back to her lap, let her touch him again, but she was pretty sure Park’s drone had scared the poor thing off for good, too.

**11:20AM Renee: **I can only imagine the horrors that lie within :P

**11:21AM Renee: **So has Elliott seen it yet?

**11:21AM Renee: **Your outfit, I mean. He’s obviously seen what’s in your pants.

**11:22AM Hyeon:** I do not believe so. I rarely encounter him in the ring before noon.

**11:22AM Renee:** Well, he’s fucked when he does encounter you. Like, done for.

**11:23AM Hyeon: **I suspect he’s not the only one.

**11:23AM Renee:** Don’t flatter yourself. I’ll cut you to ribbons, Park.

**11:23AM Hyeon:** I’m counting on it. See you in the ring. (:

_ Yeah, you will. But you won’t see me coming. _

The least she could do was ensure Park got what he deserved for being such a tease. Bare skin never worked out well in the ring, unless you were like Silva -- too fast to properly stab. But Park always had his head in the clouds, distracted by that damn AR display. He was fucked.

Figuratively fucked, at least.

_ Dammit. _

\-----

“Dammit!” 

Elliott swore as he missed another shot. His last bullet, if the way he threw the P2020 across the room was any indication. “Wraith’s right, this gun is fucking useless!”

Park just chuckled, drawing closer. His RE45 was trained on Elliott, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. He couldn’t resist the chance to get a little revenge for those fucking Nutcracker pants. And Park’s only other team mate, Renee, was 250 meters away, fighting the other half of Elliott’s squad, or what was left of them. They had some time.

“You sure it’s the gun, _ nae sarang?” _Park teased.

“Fuck no, are you serious?! It's because you're not wea--Oh, wait. You’re not serious. Shut up! This isn’t fair!” Elliott squeaked, jumping a little when his back hit the wall of the building Park had cornered him in.

Stepping into his space, Park brought his lips close to Elliott’s throat, just close enough that the trickster could feel his breath when he murmured, “What’s not fair, _ jagiya?” _ and jammed his gun’s barrel against Elliott’s stomach, laughing cruelly at the way the famous legend whimpered in response.

As much as Tae Joon never, ever wanted to _ actually _ hurt Elliott, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love everything about hunting him down in the ring. _ Fuck, _ it got his blood pumping. The way Elliott always looked just a little bit scared...but a little bit turned on, too. Because it was Elliott, and he _ always _wanted Park to touch him, even if it was just to drag him up into a kneeling position and smash him in the face with Jee.

Park couldn’t feel _ too _ smug -- he’d found himself in a similar position on a near-constant basis during Elliott’s Holo-day Bash event the month before. Still, payback felt good. _ Really _good.

Elliott whining and grinding against his thigh felt even better, though.

_ “You’re _ not fair! Y-your body, this outfit, those fucking tattoos…. _ fuck, _ baby. When you said you could program your skin I didn’t know you meant the real skin, too!” Elliott whined, smoothing his hands over the tattoos on Park’s stomach. “I’m serious! This--this outfit is creating a hostile work environment!”

But Elliott’s protests ceased and his eyes fell shut when the hacker slipped his free hand up around the trickster’s throat and gave it a firm squeeze.

“You look good too, _ jagi,” _ Crypto purred, pulling back for a moment to get a better look at Elliott’s new outfit -- a red, white and gold version of his everyday holosuit. Then Park leaned in, dragging his lips up the scarred side of Elliott’s pretty neck. “You look good enough to eat.”

Elliott shuddered, unable to keep his hips from rutting against his boyfriend’s thigh.

Before Park could stop himself -- or think, for even half a fucking second -- he was dragging Elliott away from the concrete wall of the room and bending him over one of the tiny little mattresses inside the cramped building. Elliott gasped as Park yanked down the holosuit, tearing it from his chest and shoving it down his torso until that perfect ass was exposed.

“God, baby,” Elliott moaned beneath him, doing that needy little hip-wiggle that drives Park fucking _ insane. _ “What’s-- _ mmmmngh, _ oh my fucking _ god--” _

Park hadn’t been able to resist sinking his teeth into Elliott’s ass cheek. He pulled back momentarily, bringing his hand down on the other cheek and relishing the wrecked little moan it pulled out of his boyfriend. Then he did it again, because Elliott’s ass looked particularly good when it was bright pink from his loving abuse. Then, giving both cheeks a possessive squeeze, he spread them and plunged his tongue into Elliott with hardly any warning.

_ “FUCK!” _ Elliott sobbed, pressing back against Park’s tongue. “If you don’t-- _ fuck! _\--at least get me off before you shoot me, I’m gonna be s-so mad at you…”

Park pulled back, grinning at the desperate little whine that left the trickster as he did. He leaned over Witt’s perfect body, planting tender kisses up the middle of his back and over onto a shoulder.

“Shoot you?” he purred, like it was absolutely unthinkable. “Oh, Elliott, I’m not going to _ shoot _ you.”

“You--you’re not?” the famous legend stammered as a smooth, metallic fingertip teased his hole.

“Oh no, _ nae sarang, _I’m not going to shoot you,” Park growled again, pausing to suck the finger into his mouth before returning it to its previous task. “You’re going to play the rest of this match with my cum leaking out of you.”

_ “Oh!” _ Elliott gasped when the thick, wet finger slid into him. He dropped his head, collapsing onto his elbows, like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

Park pulled his hand away, chuckling darkly at the pathetic cry that doing so tore from Elliott’s lips. He cracked his palm across Elliott’s backside again, groaning at _ that fucking hip-wiggling, god dammit, Elliott. _

Then he reached into -- he doesn’t want to call it ‘the lube pocket,’ but just like the Boyfriend Boat, that is _ absolutely _ what it has become -- the lube pocket, procuring the little bottle they’d used the first night he ever made Elliott cum for him.

_ Shit, jagi. You have the most fuckable ass on this planet… _

_ Okay, okay. On every planet. _

_ “Ah! _ Please!” Elliott cried out when two slick fingers pushed back into him. 

Park growled, because Elliott sounded just like that _ fucking decoy _ had right as it came all over Renee’s lap at the holiday party, and he couldn’t take it anymore -- shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, he took himself in hand and slicked the length of his cock. Then he spread Elliott open for him again, gripping an asscheek so hard he knew there’d be bruises and teasing the beautiful legend’s slippery hole with the tip of his aching length.

_ We better make this quick, shit. _

_ “Nghhhh, _ please! _ Please _ Daddy!” Elliott whined “P-please, oh _ god…” _

_ This is so fucking stupid. This is so fucking dangerous. This is so fucking hot. _

_ “Hmmm?” _ Parked hummed, voice lilting and innocent, like he didn’t know _ exactly _ what he was doing to him. “What do you need?”

_ We shouldn’t do this… _

Elliott let out a desperate little sob as his boyfriend continued teasing him. “I n-need you to _ fuck _ me-- _ nghhh, _ oh _ fuck _ \--I need you to m-make me cum on your cock, baby, _ please…” _

_ Fuck it. _

Park groaned. Elliott’s filthy words had finally burnt through the last of his patience, and even he couldn’t stand to tease the man any longer.

_ Jee, activate autopilot and scan for all life forms within a 100m radius. _

Receiving Park’s directions through their neural link, Jee lifted itself from his backpack and zoomed out of the room, closing the door behind it.

_ I’m going to _ ** _ruin _ ** _ this tight little ass, jagi. You’re mine. _

“Fuck, _ nae sarang,” _ Park gasped out softly. 

Then he sank into Elliott in one vicious thrust, cursing at the way the trickster tensed up around him, sobbing out a broken little moan when Park’s cock was buried in him to the hilt. Seeing Elliott stretched so tightly around the base of his cock awakened something monstrous in Park, something twisted. He had to fight down the urge to pin his sweet boyfriend down on the filthy little mattress that lay beneath them and fuck him until he was drooling into it, sobbing with oversensitivity, and begging for mercy.

_ God, jagiya. Why do you let me do these things to you? Fuck, why do you _ ** _like _ ** _ it? You’re so beautiful, why would you ever want someone like me? _

_ How did I get so fucking lucky? _

Elliott let out a soft, pleading moan, muscles flexing beneath Park’s fingers as the trickster squirmed, trying in vain to get some friction, some pressure, anything.

_ Look at that perfect body. Fuck... _

_ Nan ne momgwa salang-e ppajyeoss-eo. _

_ Neowa salang-e ppa jyeos-eo... _

Elliott was beyond words, unable to do much else but struggle in vain to fuck himself on the hacker’s cock and cry.

Park wasn’t much better off. And when he slid almost all the way out before ramming in balls-deep again, the collective volume of their combined noises was so loud, it was almost shocking it didn’t attract the attention of any other combatants.

_ “Ah! Ah! _Fuck! Please!” Elliott gasped. “Give it to me, please!”

“Oh, I’m going to give it to you, _ jagi. _ I promise you that,” Park growled, gripping the famous legend’s hips a little tighter.

Elliott moaned, rocking his ass back to meet each of Park’s increasingly-brutal thrusts.

“I love it when you get all needy for me like this, Elliott,” Park purred, mouthing at Elliott’s shoulder. “So desperate to be stuffed full of my cock.”

Elliott let out a broken, desperate little cry.

Releasing his vice-like grip on Elliott’’s ass, Park drew his weapon from where he’d holstered it moments earlier. His other hand closed around the trickster’s pretty throat, yanking him back up against Park’s chest. Elliott moaned when he felt the pistol pressing into his ribs again, and couldn’t help but reflexively jerk his hips back on his boyfriend’s swollen cock.

“Oh _ Daddy…” _

“Fuck, Elliott!” Tae Joon gasped breathlessly. He was already close. And from the way Elliott tightened around his dick when Park squeezed the man’s neck a little harder, he was getting there, too.

Releasing his throat, Park let his hand slip between his lover’s thighs, wrapping it around his neglected cock and giving it a slow, experimental stroke.

_ “Mmmmmmfuck, _ this is s-so f-fucking dirty, oh my _ god,” _Elliott whined, thrusting up into his boyfriend’s slick synthetic grip.

“Hold still,” Park growled into the space where Elliott’s neck met his shoulder. He pressed the gun harder into the famous legend’s ribs, beginning to fuck him a little less gently.

“Oh fuck,_ fuck _ yes, baby,” Elliott groaned, cock starting to pulse in Park’s hand. “It’s so hot when you tell me what to do…”

_ Oh god, Elliott. Are you even real? _

“That’s it, _ nae sarang,” _ Park grunted, thrusts growing rougher and even more desperate. _ “Take it.” _

Elliott whimpered with each thrust, head falling back against Tae Joon’s shoulder.

“You’re going to kneel there and take every last inch of this cock, then beg for more, aren’t you?” Park hissed, feeling the demon inside him start to climb up his throat and force its way out of his mouth. “You’re going to take every inch, every thrust, every last fucking drop and you’re going to _ love _ it, Elliott.”

“Fuck…” Elliott gasped. 

Park seized a fistful of those pretty curls and gave them a rough tug, bringing his mouth close to the trickster’s ears and growling, “I want to hear it. I want to hear you say it,_ jagi.” _

Elliott shuddered. “S-s-say what?” 

“Say that you’ll take every inch of this dick like a good boy and beg for more,” Park replies, hoping he himself can even last that long. The way Elliott’s clenching tightly around him every time he bumps his prostate is making it hard to focus on anything but spilling into that tight heat.

_ “Mmmmfuck,” _ Elliott whined, cheeks flushing from both exertion and shame. ”I--I’m g-gonna take every inch of your cock like a g-good boy and b-beg for-- _ fuck! _ Please!”

Tae Joon chuckled at the way his boyfriend interrupted himself when Park’s cockhead nudged against his core.

“Oh _ god, _ I n-need it, I need you to shoot that hot, sticky load in my ass, baby. I need it so bad...” Elliott pleaded, squirming against Park’s hips. “C’mon baby, I want you to fill me up, I want to feel it leaking out of me for the rest of the match, like you said…”

_ “Ssibal, maeu deoleoun…” _ Park groaned, bringing the synthetic palm of his hand down hard on Elliott’s asscheek and making the trickster yelp. 

Elliott’s mouth was always the cause of Park’s undoing, even when said mouth wasn’t wrapped around his cock. The famous legend always knew exactly what to say to awaken the monster, to make Park lose control. He _ begged _ for it.

So if Elliott’s asscheeks were still spanked-red even after they were back on the dropship later on, well, that was his own damn fault. And if he was limping in the ring the next day, well, he kind of had it coming.

Pushing the barrel of the .45 into Elliott’s ribs a little harder, Park slipped his free hand back down the trickster’s perfect body and wrapped it around his cock again, giving it a firm stroke. Elliott yelped and immediately began thrusting forward into Park’s synthetic palm and grinding back on the hacker’s aching cock.

_ “Mmngh, _ you feel so fucking _ good, _ Daddy,” Elliott moaned lewdly, 

_ Fuck, are you trying to kill me? _

“I could just stand here, not move a single muscle, and you’d still fuck yourself on my cock, wouldn’t you?” Park murmured darkly. “Needy little slut. You probably wouldn’t even notice, you’d just keep riding my cock and fucking my hand until you came. Isn’t that right?”

Elliott let loose a humiliated little moan of affirmation, thrusting up into Park’s synthetic grip with a desperate whine. He was getting close -- Park could tell from the way the man’s thighs were trembling each time Park thrust into him.

_ God, you feel so good, Elliott… _

_ I’m in love with you. _

_ And I’m scared. And this is stupid. And risky. _

_ But I want you to be mine. _

“You’re _ mine,” _ Park hissed, pulling Elliott closer and jerking his hips into him roughly. “All mine, _ fuck--” _

Park was cut off by the pleasure threatening to rip through him, but he managed to hold off. He wanted to draw things out as long as possible.

_ “Ah! Mnnnn _...fuck…” Elliott’s eyes fell shut when Park sank his teeth into the side of the famous legend’s throat. “All yours…”

_ Ssibal, god... _

“Do you like this, Elliott?” Park growled in his ear, licking over the bitemark.. “Do you like being on your knees, bent over a filthy mattress in this filthy old apartment, getting fucked like a whore?”

“Yes! Fuck, _ mnnnghh…” _ Elliott groaned deep in his chest, jerking his hips back on Crypto’s cock.

_ “Nal bolago, geolleya,” _ Park grunted, pounding into Elliott so hard he knew they’d both have bruises. 

_ “Mmmmph!” _ Elliott replied.

Park seized the trickster’s chin, jerking his head to the side so Park could look him in the eye.

“I said _ look at me, _ slut.” 

Elliott whimpered, biting his lip when he met Park’s hungry gaze, and the look in those pretty, pitiful puppy-dog eyes went straight to Park’s dick. Elliott was giving him that fucking _ look _ again -- the pouty, innocent, just-a-little-bratty look that made Park want to do terrible things to him. Instead, he just let the barrel of his .45 drift from Elliott’s ribs down to his stomach, making Elliott gasp when he pressed the cold steel into the sensitive, bare flesh there. Then he released the trickster’s chin and reached down to grip his boyfriend’s cock again, stroking it in sync with his brutal thrusts into Elliott’s ass.

_ “Ah! _ Fuck! _ Mngh! _ God, your cock is so-- _ ah! _\--so f-fucking big, baby…”

_ No, your ass is just ridiculously tight, jagi... _

Park just growled into Elliott’s shoulder, fucking into the famous legend as hard as he could. He looked down for a moment to watch himself slide into that perfect ass and yeah, it was a _ real _ tight squeeze. Elliott’s hole was pink and swollen, stretched taut around the base of Crypto’s dick. The sight of Elliott pushing his hips back, thrusting back to fuck himself on Park’s thick cock, forcing Park to _ watch _ as that perfect ass jerked back and forcibly swallowed every inch of his dick....it was fucking _ mesmerizing. _ It was nearly enough to make Park lose his mind.

_ Mine, mine, all mine... _

“M’gettin’ close, ohgod,” Elliott gasped.

_ That’s it, nae sarang. Cum for me. _

Park could barely contain his own pleasured noises, but he’d be damned if he let himself cum first. Elliott deserved it first and foremost, especially for putting up with him when the fucking _ monster _ inside him reared its ugly head, as it currently was.

“So filthy, god, look at you,” Park grunted out between thrusts. “Ready to cum for me even with a gun to your belly.”

And that was all it took -- Elliott let out a choked sort of cry, then he whimpered, and then he was spilling all over himself and his boyfriend’s half-synthetic hand.

_ “Ah! Nghhhhfuck, _ Daddy! _ Mnghh…” _

“Fuck,” Park hissed, releasing Elliott’s cock and moving his wet, sticky hand to grip the the trickster’s hip, dragging him back to meet each vicious thrust.

_ “Mmmmmnnnn,” _ Elliott replied, his body limp and pliant now but still shuddering with the occasional wave of latent pleasure.

It was too much -- Elliott was all but naked beneath him, in the middle of the god damn ring, in the middle of a fucking _ match, _ moaning and still rutting back onto his cock even as he whined with overstimulation, even as Park fucked him with a _ gun _ pressed under his ribs. 

_ Fuck, Elliott. _

Park knew he was moments from spilling.

“Agh, _ fuck--” _ he groaned again. 

_ Just like that, jagi. _

_ So fucking tight, oh my god… _

"Wow, when I said you guys were a mess, I didn't mean literally," Renee teased, gazing at them from where she stood, apparently having just ascended the stairs of the little building they were...christening. Park felt his soul all but leave his body as he flushed with shame, yanked forcefully back from the brink of orgasm by the pants-shitting fear that tore through him the moment he heard her voice. She was leaning against the wall, and something about the look on her face made Park wonder just exactly how long she’d been watching them. 

Her eyes fixed on the cum staining Elliott's holosuit. "But I guess I mean it literally now."

_ Oh fuck. Oh god. Shit. What the fuck, Jee? I told you to keep an eye out! _

Through their neural link, he heard the little drone beep something that roughly translated to _ 'I don’t scan for team mates. You designed me, you dipshit.' _

_ God damn portals. God damn phase-tech. God damn useless fucking drone. _

Despite the compromising position he's just been caught in, Park groans when Elliott constricts around him, tensing up when he notices Renee's presence but still jerking his hips back on the cock that’s buried in his ass, whining in frustration when Tae Joon doesn’t continue to fuck him.

Renee looks...far less grossed-out than Park would have expected. She's got a wingman pointed at them, and though her eyes are big as flying saucers, a wry smile plays at her lips as her gaze flickers between them and she murmurs, "Sorry to interrupt."

_ Don't be sorry, fuck. _

"Sorry about this, too," she adds, before adjusting her aim, squeezing _ both _ of her eyes shut and sort of...wincing -- which is a little bit odd -- before she fires three shots into Elliott, who immediately collapses to the floor and disappears back to the respawn chamber on the ship.

Park nearly falls flat on his face from the sudden absence of the body he’d been leaning over. The .45 is still gripped tightly in his right hand but it’s not like he’s going to use it, he can't bring himself to do anything but stay right where he is, kneeling on the dirty mattress with his cock out, coat discarded on the floor a few feet away. Nothing to hide behind. Nothing to protect him from her icy gaze...or the blade of her knife.

He gapes at her, still frozen, heart pounding like he's been sprinting from an ever-closing ring.

"Wow, Park. You really don't know how to do anything but stare, do you?" she purrs, eyes flashing like a bored housecat that has finally stumbled across some suitable prey. 

When he doesn't reply, doesn't move, doesn't breathe, she barks out a mirthless little laugh. Park feels his face reddening as her gaze drifts down between his thighs, where his cock is still aching hard, slick with lube and leaking from the tip. 

"Drop the gun."

He hesitates. As much as he wants whatever she's about to do to him (even if she’s just going to stab him in the chest, which is the most likely possibility), he's already more exposed and vulnerable than he's ever let himself be in the ring. Voluntarily disarming himself isn't something that comes easily. Even if she _ is _ his squadmate. 

_ She wouldn’t actually shoot me and get herself eliminated. _

_ ...right? _

"Last chance," she murmurs, her light eyes suddenly dark with wickedness. "Drop the fucking gun, Park."

Park drops the fucking gun.

_ Fuck it. If the Syndicate hired her to kill me, at least I'll die happy. _

"That's better," she says darkly, her smile almost predatory. "And here I was thinking you didn't like to take orders."

_ It helps if the person giving the orders is armed to the teeth and also fucking beautiful. _

She quite suddenly snaps out of their dimension, zipping across the room in a streak of indigo light before popping out of the Void right behind him. He gasps when she strokes a hand over his braided hair and leans down to look over his shoulder. He’s vaguely aware that the (admittedly ridiculous) pair of orange glasses he’d been wearing are now gone, presumably knocked off in the scuffle with Elliott moments earlier. 

Renee’s breath is hot and humid, puffing against his neck when she murmurs, "Keep going, Park."

Tae Joon is pretty sure that he's hallucinating, sure the Syndicate must have found some sort of drug that can bypass the nanobots, or something, because this _ abso-fucking-lutely _ cannot not be happening for real.

_ Right??? _

Renee's evidently holstered her wingman, because it's her kunai blade he suddenly feels pressing against his throat. He thinks about the first time she had him like this, had a knife to his throat. His cock throbs in his hand.

"Oh, don't tell me you're gonna play shy _ now," _ she growls, lips dragging against the synthetic skin of his throat with each word. "Not after being such a _ fucking tease." _

He can't even begin to think of what to say, but he can't bring himself to move, either. So he stays there, frozen in place with the cool edge of her knife grazing his chest as it drifts southward, coming to rest at his belly. The smooth metal feels tantalizing, and it sends bolts of lust shooting down between his thighs. All he can think about is the last time he felt it, the last time she had him vulnerable, half-naked, and taken wholly by surprise at her unexpected presence. The memory makes his dick throb again.

_ Why are you like this, Tae Joon? Christ, _ he thinks, after another unsuccessful attempt to reroute bloodflow back to his brain.

"I see the way you look at me, Park," she murmurs against his synthetic skin. He shudders. The way she's letting her lips brush his throat...if he didn't know better, he'd call it a kiss. It's too soft, too light, not nearly enough, but it's addictive and it makes his dick so hard it feels like it’s made of metal. His blood is pumping in his ears so loudly he thinks Renee must hear it.

"You're always looking at me, Hyeon. Always staring. Always watching through that _ fucking _ drone," she hisses, digging the knife into his abdomen a little harder for emphasis and making him gasp as she does. "I hear it every single time you do it. So now, now I'm gonna look at _ you. _ Stare at _ you. _ Watch _ you _ fuck yourself."

_ Oh god. _

He'd be absolutely positive he was imagining things, if not for the bite of the knife's tip against his stomach, threatening to break his skin.

"Or I can just go ahead and kill you," she continues, voice teasing. Mocking, almost. "But that's not what you want, is it?"

"No," he finally manages to breathe out rather shakily. "No, that's...that's not what I want."

_ I’m...pretty sure it’s against the rules to kill your team mate. _

_ It’s probably also against the rules to fuck an enemy combatant, though, so maybe I should keep my mouth shut... _

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she purrs against his throat, making him shudder. "Now be good and do what I said. And don't even think about cumming until I tell you to."

_ Oh fuck. _

"Oh _ fuck…" _

Park can't stop the sound that pours out of him when he registers her words. He obeys immediately, gasping softly as he grips his aching length a little harder and begins moving his hand, stroking himself from root to tip.

"That's better," she whispers. "There's a good boy."

He moans like a fucking whore at the praise, and he can't help that, either. He's never wanted to be good so badly in his entire life.

"Do you think of me while you do this, Hyeon?" she asks, as if she doesn't already know the answer. "Do you think about fucking Elliott while I watch?"

_ God, yes. Fuck, you have no idea... _

When he doesn't answer, the hand that isn’t pressing the kunai into his ribs grips his hair and gives it a rough tug, making him let loose a ragged cry of surprise.

"I asked you a question, _ slut," _ Renee hisses. Her voice is starting to sound a little ragged, too.

"Yes!" he gasps, feeling himself flush. "I think about you, I--_ ah!" _

She yanks his head back further, mouthing at his neck.

"You're so fucking filthy, Park. Utterly depraved."

"I am," he admits, just barely able to resist the urge to thrust up into his own grip...even with her knife pressed to his belly. "I am, I know."

"That's not all you think about though, is it?"

He whimpers when he feels her tongue dart out to taste his synthetic flesh.

"I bet you think about fucking me, too," she hisses, releasing his hair in favor of dragging her gloved fingers up over his Adam's apple. "I bet you think about me riding your cock while Elliott fucks this pretty throat."

Park groans, squeezing the base of his dick to keep from going over the edge when she squeezes his throat. "Fuck, Renee…"

"Oh you'd love to, I'm sure. You'd share me with him, too, wouldn't you?" she asks, voice dark and tinged with danger. "I bet you'd even let him fuck me at the same time."

_ Fuck yes I would. _

"Fuck," he gasps out, starting to tremble with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay. "Oh _ fuck _ yes, please!"

_ If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna cum whether I touch myself or not. Fuck… _

He tries not to focus on the vivid mental image painted by her words, but it’s impossible. All he can see when he closes his eyes is the three of them, locked in various passionate embraces. 

_ "Ssibal _, oh god," he groans, squeezing the base of his cock again as he just barely stops himself from erupting all over his fist. He lets his hand linger for a moment as he gasps and wills his body to behave.

"I don't remember telling you to stop," she growls, her teeth grazing his bare shoulder as they're dragged over his scars.

"Fuck, Renee, please," he whines, slowly beginning to move his fist again and swallowing down the orgasm that's threatening to tear itself out of him at any moment. “I--I c-can’t, _ please…” _

"Listen to you, asking nicely for once," she purrs, her voice laced with a wicked sort of glee. "Keep that up and maybe I'll let you watch when I fuck your boyfriend's pretty little ass."

_ Oh my _ ** _god._ **

_ "Nnnnghhhhfuck," _ he all but sobs, nearly driven mad by the thought of her fucking Elliott with a strap-on as the trickster whines into a pillow.

"Hell, you play your cards right, I might let you two switch places. You've got a nice ass too, Hyeon."

_ Oh god. Oh god, yes. Please. Please fuck me _. 

"Shit," he bites out, balancing on the edge and trying to keep himself from going over without her permission. _ "Please, _ Renee. Fuck..."

_ "Mmmm," _ she hums into the junction of his neck and shoulder, sending goosebumps shooting across his skin -- both organic and synthetic. "'Please' what, handsome? Does thinking about me fucking you make you wanna cum?"

_ "Yes, _ so fucking bad, please," he gasps, consumed with desire. "I c-can't, I need it, I--" he cuts himself off, interrupted by a choked sort of moan as he swipes a thumb over the head of his cock. _ "Jebal, _ oh my god, _ please!" _

He's shameless now, begging, unable to keep himself from thrusting forward into his palm even as Renee's knife digs deeper into his flesh with each desperate jerk of his hips. The hand not holding the knife has apparently had its glove removed. Park gasps when it slips southward, smoothing a warm palm over the exposed planes of his chest and stomach, tracing his tattoos and synthetic skin. Park shudders

"You gonna cum for me, Hyeon? Gonna make a mess all over yourself, _ hmm?" _ she asks, voice lilting and full of cruel amusement. 

_ "Agh! _ Renee, _ please!" _

_ Fuck, oh fuck, I can't, I'm gonna-- _

"Well, I guess you've earned it. Go on then, you filthy fucking slut. Cum for me,” she commands, sounding positively _ wicked. _ “Maybe when I'm done with you, I'll go find that cute little decoy…"

_ Oh fuck, oh my fuck-- _

"Oh god, Renee--_ agh! _ \-- _ ssibal, fuck--!” _

Park fucking _ sobs, _ feeling tears of pleasure spill onto his cheeks as his orgasm tears through him, shredding him like hammerpoint rounds to a purple body shield. He whimpers with each wave of pleasure, cumming all over his own synthetic palm and the filthy mattress beneath them.

"That's right, baby," she murmurs into his shoulder as he cries out, head thrown back, shaking in her arms as his cock pulses. "You look so good like this, Hyeon. God, I'd take a holograph right now if I could, so I could see you like this whenever I want..."

_ Fuck a holograph. _

_ If we record this it better be in hi-def VR-friendly format, I'm going to need a 360° view of your perfect fucking body when I'm jerking off to it later, god. _

He can't actually respond, though, because pleasure is still burning through him and the sting of the knife biting into his flesh is so good he can't stop whining and thrusting up into his hand, even as he feels a drop of blood begin slipping down his abdomen.

He goes limp in her arms when he's finally spent, shaking and gasping out a soft _ 'thank you,' _ because it's all he can think to say. To his surprise, she doesn't stop him from leaning back against her, doesn't shove him off or collapse under his weight. The knife is still at his flesh, but it's not digging in anymore, it's only hovering there so he doesn’t...try anything. 

She's just...holding him. Her other hand strokes gently over his hair again and down his cheek, along his jaw. He sighs, more relaxed than he's felt in...shit, he can’t even remember. It feels like his lungs have filled with helium when she presses a soft, tender kiss to the scars on his shoulder -- like he might float away, just disappear into Talos’ beautiful sky. Her voice is soothing, gentle, just as tender as her lips when she giggles and murmurs, "No, thank _ you. _ I mean shit, you did all the work!” against his bare shoulder blade. 

He huffs out a laugh, reaching up behind him to press her closer into his back because she just feels so damn _ nice _ there with her strong arms wrapped around him, petting his hair and murmuring sweet words into his ear.

"You're lucky you’re so good-looking," she says, after a few moments of comfortable silence. “‘Cause you’re a terrible squad mate. Pretty sure you’re supposed to _ shoot _ at the enemy team, not fuck them.”

“He asked for it,” Park murmurs, rubbing his face with the hand that isn’t sticky.

_ “You _ asked for it, Park,” she laughs, toying with the gaudy gold chain that hangs from his throat. “I mean, this outfit is ridiculous, but underneath those silly glasses and this goofy hair, you’re pretty fucking hot.”

_ No I'm fucking not. _

_ You, on the other hand… _

“And as much as I hate to admit it,” she murmurs, “I’m finding it pretty hard to focus on the Games when you’re dressed like this.” 

_ Pfft. I’ll feel bad for you when you stop torturing me with those fucking Night Terror shorts. _

The scary-hot outfit haunts both his dreams and his nightmares. But before he can voice this thought, the door on the first floor swings open. A moment later, he hears heavy footfalls and the hiss of a gas barrel inflating itself.

_ Oh _ ** _fuck._ **

_ "Shit!" _ she hisses, tensing up behind him. "Sorry, gotta run. Good, uh, g-good luck with...this," she whispers with a soft huff of laughter as she gestures to his cumstained hand, dick, and pants. “I’ll meet you at the skyhook, assuming you’re still alive.” 

She presses her lips against the back of his neck in a soft little kiss that makes his stomach flip. Then she's gone, disappearing into the Void and sending him falling backwards onto the cold, hard floor.

_ Thanks for not leaving me a portal, Renee. _

_ God damn you, Nox. _

It was honestly a miracle Elliott’s team mate hadn’t found them sooner. In fact, Park had hoped it might be Nox who accidentally walked in on him and Elliott. Maybe after that, the creepy jerk would stop fucking--fucking _ looking _ at Elliott all the time. It made Park’s blood boil that Nox was even allowed to breathe the same air as his sweet, beautiful boyfriend. Even if the bastard _ did _do an excellent job fixing his neck...

Quickly wiping his hand on the filthy mattress, he frantically tucks himself back into his pants, retrieves his coat -- and his weapon -- and slips out the door of the second story as quietly as possible. He's in no mood or condition to tangle with the mad scientist today. Even criminal superhackers have their limits. Right now all he wants to do is collapse into a bed. 

...and then, preferably, bury his face between Renee's breasts.

Looking down, he curses and wipes away an errant drop of cum that landed on his pants. He tries to wipe away the blood trailing down his stomach, too, but only succeeds in smearing it across his torso, and the bleeding hasn't stopped yet. He groans, ripping open the pocket that _ isn't _ holding a tiny bottle of lube and pulling out a band-aid.

It's the first rule of survival when you're living life on the run: always be prepared. For anything. 

Including impromptu mid-match knifeplay, apparently.

_ God, what are we doi-- _

Just as he's turned the corner around the side of the building, something grabs him from behind, but he can't see who -- or what -- it is. Something fucking _ strong _ has pinned his arms to his sides, but when he looks down, there's nothing there.

_ What--? _

"That was the hottest fuckin' thing I've ever seen, baby," Elliott's voice says from behind him.

_ How the fuck-- _

Quite suddenly, he realizes something. Something horrifying.

When Renee had gunned Elliott down, his death box never spawned.

_ Oh for fuck's sake. How am I still falling for this shit? _

He's been bamboozled once again.

Elliott chuckles behind him, arms coming into view when he deactivates his holographic shroud.

"Then who--did I just _ fuck _ a decoy?" Park asks in utter disbelief.

"S'not my fault you can't tell us apart when you're horny!"

"Er...which, uh, which one was it?"

Elliott giggles.

"The slutty one, obviously. You couldn't tell?"

"I uh...just curious."

Elliott snorts. "Don't worry, it wasn't the one you're in love with or whatever. He'd have short-circuited the second the gun got involved. Like I said, you banged the slutty one."

"I am _ not _ in--wait, there's a slutty one?"

"Duh!" Elliott giggles, kissing the side of his neck.

"Funny, he acts _ exactly _ like you. Kind of hard to tell the difference," Park says. "I don't think Renee could, either." 

Crypto goes to turn around and kiss him, but Elliott locks his arms so tightly he can't move, pinning him in place with that _ god damn vampire strength _.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Elliott growls, his voice suddenly dropping an octave or two. 

"Sorry for what?"

"This," he says, and then Park feels the cool metal of a weapon pressing against the side of his head. A split second later, everything goes black.

_ Don't be sorry. _

_ Well, OK. You can be a little bit sorry. _

Climbing out of the respawn chamber, Park tries to be upset about getting eliminated. It's difficult, though, because all he can think about is the fact that he now knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sweet, shy decoy would feel just as good wrapped around his cock as the real Elliott does.

And because he knows Renee is _ definitely _ DTF.

And because it’s kind of hot when Elliott outsmarts him.

_ Damn, he's good. _

\-----

_ Did that really just happen? _ Renee asks herself, incredulous.

_ Ugh. At least Elliott didn’t see it. _

\-----

“Oh my god I am, like, freaking out. This is so scary! Is it going to hurt?” Elliott asked for approximately the five-hundredth time since they’d arrived at Min’s.

“The answer has not changed since you last asked, approximately ten seconds ago,” Park responded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Elliott huffed.

Min laughed. “You’re so mean, Ta--uh...Hyeon,” she quickly corrected herself when Park shot her a warning glare. “It’s not that bad, Elliott. I promise.”

Elliott squirmed where he sat, clearly anxious. The second floor of Min’s bar was empty except for the three of them -- well, four, counting the decoy. It peered at Elliott with wide eyes from where it sat, folded up on the couch several feet away, looking at him almost as if to say, _ are we really doing this? _

The trickster was shirtless, sitting backwards in a folding chair, straddling the back of the seat as he rested his elbows on it. He squeaked when Min’s gloved hand made contact with his skin.

“Relax,” Min giggled. “It’s just rubbing alcohol! Jeez, Park. He _ is _ a scaredy cat.”

“Am not!” Elliott protested.

“Are too,” Tae Joon replied with a smirk, looking at the decoy. It blushed, averting its eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Min sighed with a wave of her metal hand. “Save your domestic disputes for the drop ship, I need him to hold still.”

Park watched Elliott’s eyes widen when Min unceremoniously rotated her wrist 360 degrees, popping her metal hand from where it connected to her artificial wrist before replacing it with the tattoo gun attachment Tae Joon had designed for her. The decoy looked like it might faint any second.

“Oh god. It’s happening,” Elliott paled, squirming in an effort to get a look behind him. “Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh--”

Tae Joon reached out, grabbing Elliott’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, _ nae sarang. _ Breathe.”

Elliott took a shuddering breath.

_ “‘Nae sarang,’ _huh?” Min said with a smirk. “God, you weren’t kidding. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

_ “Shut up!” _ Park snapped back in Korean, knowing his feigned outrage was incredibly unconvincing. Min snorted.

_ His finger isn’t all he’s got me wrapped around... _

Elliott tensed up when he heard the unmistakable buzz of the tattoo gun, twisting to look behind him again. The poor little decoy covered its eyes.

_ “Shhhh, _ it’s okay,” Park murmured, squeezing Elliott’s hand again to distract him from the imminent pain. “I’m right here, _ jagi.” _

Min’s eyebrows shot up again when she heard the term of endearment, but she managed to keep her mouth shut this time.

_ Thank god. _

Elliott let out a soft cry of pain, whimpering when the needles first met his skin. Tae Joon swallowed thickly, wishing his brain would stop associating that particular sound with mind-blowing orgasms.

_ Stop it. That’s not supposed to be hot. _

“You alright?” Min asked, pausing her work.

“I...actually, yeah,” Elliott replied after a rather extended silence. “S’not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I’m glad, but I was actually asking T--er, Hyeon,” Min said with a grin. “You look more tense than he does, dude.”

“I’ll be back,” Park grumbled, giving Elliott’s hand another squeeze before rising from his chair. He quite suddenly needed a hit of nicotine.

\----

“So...how do you guys know each other?” Elliott eagerly asked once his boyfriend was out of earshot.

He couldn’t see her face, but he felt the hands at his back go still for just a moment before Hyeon’s unreasonably-pretty friend answered his question.

“Long story. You could say he, uh, gave me a hand when I really needed it,” she answered, pausing to wave her metal limb in front of his face and giggle at her own joke. “I was in a pretty dark place after I lost the arm. Shit, I was in a dark place before that…”

She trailed off for a moment, as if lost in thought.

“He showed up at the bar one day looking mighty rough. Seemed lonely,” she continued. “I think he was just glad to meet a fellow Korean, to be honest. Anyway, we got to talking, hit it off. He hooked me up with the arm -- I still don’t know exactly how. Not sure I want to. These things don’t come cheap.”

Elliott believed it -- her elbow was engraved with the Hammond Robotics logo, and it was on the tiny display on the back of her hand, too. Nothing Hammond made came cheap.

“Few months later I’m watching the Games and all of a sudden I’m like, ‘Holy shit, that’s the guy who gave me Hank!” she exclaimed.

“Your...arm is named Hank?” Elliott wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

“Fuck yeah,” Min said, like it was a silly question. “You telling me you wouldn’t give your robot arm a name?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She had a point. The arm was cool enough to deserve a name. “But...Hank?”

“Yeah! As in ‘tHANK you very much for the free robot arm, my guy.’”

Elliott giggled. 

“This place was about to go out of business three months ago,” she continued, her voice suddenly taking on a much more serious tone. “Kinda hard to make a living as a right-handed tattoo artist when you don’t have a right hand. The bar takes three hands to manage as it is. I couldn’t tattoo even after I got Hank. The gun would vibrate against the metal in my hand and all the way up my arm, it was too hard to control.”

She sighed, like the memory was a painful one to recall. 

“Managing the bar was hard enough, I think I was just ready to throw in the towel on life in general. I was done. Anyway, I told him we were closing down, and a day later he was back with the tattoo gun attachment. Pretty sure he made it himself,” she paused for a moment. “He just kind of showed up and fixed all the broken shit in my life.”

“Yeah,” Elliott said with a smile. “He does that.”

_ Ugh, I love him so fucking much. _

They both fell silent, leaving only the buzzing of the tattoo gun to fill the silence. Elliott noticed his decoy lean forward to get a look at the in-progress body art. The hologram immediately jerked back, wincing like it wished it hadn’t.

_ Pussy. _

“So uh, you from around here?” Elliott asked, trying to distract himself from the toe-curling pain of the tattoo gun as it passed over his shoulder blade for what felt like the fiftieth time. 

He was suddenly wondering why the fuck such an enchanting person would choose to put down roots somewhere like Talos, of all places. The planet was beautiful, but it wasn’t exactly a hotbed of social activity. Elliott was pretty sure the only other attractive people on the planet had all been stuffed into Min’s bar the first night Hyeon had taken him there.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped abruptly after he asked the question.

“Just curious,” he quickly added. “I have a bar on Solace and business was slow as fuck even with traffic from the Games. I can’t imagine what it’s like out here. This place is kind of a wasteland. The planet, I mean. Not this place,” he gestured at their surroundings. “This place is _ awesome.” _

“He’s right,” Min snickered. “You’re cute when you get nervous.”

_ OMG. He said that? _

Elliott promptly flushed from head to toe, unsure if he even wanted to ask about the context of that conversation. His decoy looked like it wanted to disappear. A few moments later, it did.

_ Loser. _

“My mom worked on the island during the war, after she quit her first job,” Min said after a moment. “We were never very close. I moved back after her m--after she died. Had some...unfinished business. Wanted to understand her a little better, I guess. Made some friends, ended up sticking around, I dunno.”  
  
_ Fuck, _Elliott thought. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a personal turn.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up, uh, anything painful. I get it, though. M-my brothers went to the front lines and never came back,” he replied, vaguely wondering why he was still talking but continuing to do so anyway. “I was still a kid in a lot of ways, it was hard to wrap my head around. Still kind of is.”

The tattoo gun ceased its humming once again.

_“Fuck,_ dude. I’m sorry. That fucking _sucks,_ shit,” Min replied. “But I didn’t mean--like, my mom didn’t die in the war. She was--it was--” she paused again, like she wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. “It’s a long story. What about you? I normally advise against the whole inking-somebody’s-name-on-your-skin thing but I make exceptions for family. You gonna tell me about your mom? Hyeon says she’s a legit genius.”  
  
“Yeah,” Elliott said, trying to focus on the needles in his back instead of the strange way his heart was suddenly aching. “She is.”

\----

“What do you think,_ jagiya?” _ Park asked, gazing at his boyfriend as Elliott gazed into the mirror.

“It’s AWESOME,” Elliott squealed, bouncing on his toes with excitement.

_ Stop being so fucking cute. I’m still sore from last night, god… _

Elliott turned around, suddenly looking a little nervous. “W-what do _ you _ think?”  
  
Tae Joon nudged him to turn around again, pretending to appraise the fresh tattoo even though he already knew the answer.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” he said after a moment. “Like you. And her.”

It wasn’t a lie. Min did good work, she always did, and Elliott was so pretty Park was fairly certain he’d look good in just about any ink.  
  
Elliott blushed, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Min said, smirking at Park as she peeled a rubber glove off of her human hand with a stretchy sort of snapping sound.

Tae Joon smiled in spite of himself, eyes drifting to the decoy he’d almost accidentally fucked _ twice _ now. Just like Elliott, its holosuit was halfway off, upper body exposed as it nudged Elliott out of the way so it could stand before the mirror and study the tattoo that had just appeared on its own shoulder.  
  
_ God. Look at you. _  
  
_ Fuck, get ahold of yourself, Tae Joon. It’s your fault. _

Park had indirectly coaxed the gorgeous little thing halfway out of the holosuit when he mentioned that Elliott would be able to watch his tattoo appear on the hologram’s skin in real time. Elliott had needed a distraction from the pain, which was _ definitely _ the only reason he’d even thought about bringing it up in the first place. Definitely. It had absolutely nothing to do with how _ fucking hot _ it was when Elliott ordered the poor thing to strip and take a seat in front of him. He was just excited, eager to get a better look at the in-progress tattoo. That’s really all it was. 

But the way Elliott growled, “When I said _ come here, _ I wasn’t asking,” at the decoy’s initial hesitation made Park’s pants feel uncomfortably tight.

Eyes drifting further down its exposed back, Park was eager to get a better look at something else entirely, and from the way the decoy had flushed when he caught its eye as it shimmied halfway out of the holosuit, he was sure his desire was betrayed by the look on his face.  
  
_ Fucking control yourself. _  
  
He’d behaved, really. Mostly. But now, with it standing half-naked and _ right _ in front of him, right where Elliott had stood only moments before, he couldn’t resist. The decoy gasped when it felt metal fingertips ghosting up the length of its spine.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Tae Joon asked softly, genuinely curious if it could feel the needles that had just been in Elliott’s skin.  
  
“Nah,” Elliott answered for it, as the decoy silently shook its head in agreement. “This little guy would probably pop if you poked him with a needle.”

From the way the decoy paled at Elliott’s words, Park figured the poor creature was more likely to pass out. On a whim, he batted its hands away when it went to pull the holosuit back over its upper body. Something about the way its eyes widened in surprise made him ache to touch it more, but he managed to resist the urge, instead choosing to help it back into the holosuit himself.  
  
“Oh,” it said softly, letting out a shaky breath when it realized he wasn’t about to strip it bare and fuck it right against Min’s mirror.

To be fair, he’d briefly considered doing just that. But he didn’t, if only because he valued his life, and because Min had an _ incredibly _ mean right hook. 

Still, he couldn’t help but lean forward and murmur something into the hologram’s ear as he finished pulling up the suit’s zipper. The little squeak that came out of it when his breath tickled its throat was more than worth it.  
  
“You are so beautiful, _ jagiya,” _ he growled, low enough that only the decoy could hear him. It shuddered when it met his gaze in the mirror. Then he stepped away, because he knew if he didn’t, he’d end up saying what he was actually thinking.

_ I’m going to fucking _ ** _wreck_ ** _ this tight little ass one day. _

“Help me take a picture of it! The internet needs to see this!” Elliott whined, and it took Park a moment to realize he meant the tattoo, not the decoy.

He smiled, taking the phone from Elliott’s outstretched hand and snapping a couple of photos of the fresh ink.

It _ did _look good. Inked over the toned, tan skin of the trickster’s right shoulder was the image of a holoemitter projecting the word “MOM” across Elliott’s shoulder in large letters surrounded by a bluish, glowing light. A bright pink heart replaced the ‘o’ in ‘Mom.’

“You’ll be glad you went for the old-school ink,” Min said, wandering over to inspect Elliott’s shoulder. She nodded her head towards Tae Joon. “This one will reprogram your SmartInk while you sleep, if you’re not careful.” 

Park laughed. “You deserved it.”

He’d almost forgotten about the time he programmed her enormous, intricate throat tattoo to display a collection of crudely-drawn phallic symbols while she slept, passed out on the couch across the room. She hadn’t been very amused the next day when a customer pointed it out.

It was only fair, especially after she’d won that bet and made him get his ‘made in Korea’ tattoo. That one was real ink, and it was never coming off. Min had totally deserved the ink reprogramming for winning their bet in the first place, anyway.

“You’re just mad I was right,” she snapped.

“Right about what?” Elliott looked a little confused.

Park shot Min a warning glare.  
  
_ Don’t you DARE-- _

“I bet him he’d break down and kiss you before Christmas,” she replied, shooting a wicked smile in Tae Joon’s general direction. “He didn’t even make it to Thanksgiving.”

“Min!”

Elliott burst into a fit of giggles, swatting Tae Joon playfully. “You liar! You told me that tattoo was old!”

Park could feel his face reddening, cheeks burning hotter than the lava on World’s Edge.

“Is his tattoo programmable?” Elliott asked, once he’d recovered his ability to speak.

“Fuck no,” Min replied with a gleeful sort of wickedness. “That was part of the deal! Old-school ink. After he brought you in for drinks that one time, I knew he was doomed.”

Park groaned, covering his face.

“What?” Min asked, feigning innocence. “S’not my fault. You were the one looking at him like the sun shines out his ass.”

_ It does, _Park thinks distantly.

\-----

“Thank you,” Elliott murmured softly once they’d returned to his ship. _ Their _ ship.

_ God dammit, Witt. Do not get attached to this kind of shit, what the fuck are you doing? _

“For what?” Hyeon replied, eyebrows raised.

“For this! Everything. For coming with me, and holding my hand, and actually introducing me to your smoking-hot friend this time…”

The hacker shrugged, but there was a small smile on his face. “Min did all the work. I just paid the bill.”

“Thank you for that, too,” Elliott said, feeling his heart pound a little when he remembered how Hyeon had _ insisted _ on paying, just like on their first date. “Even though it was _ totally unnecessary.” _

“These are what’s unnecessary,” the hacker growled, rolling his hips forward as he slipped a hand between them to toy with the elastic band of Elliott’s pajama pants. 

Yes, his mother had gifted them with matching pajamas for Christmas and yes, Elliott was fairly certain that was Mom-speak for _ marry him. _

_ “Awww, _I thought you liked them!” Elliott whined, pretending to sound scandalized.

“Oh, I do,” Hyeon murmured, pulling back to leave a wet trail of kisses from his collarbones to the ticklish spot just beneath his navel. “But right now, they’re in my way.”

Elliott gasped as he was relieved of both his PJ’s and his underwear in one swift movement.

“Fuck, baby,” the trickster breathed out, breath hitching when he felt a half-synthetic hand wrap around his stiffening cock. 

A moment later, it was replaced with a vibrating tongue, and Elliott moaned so loudly he was sure he heard it echo across the whole damn island.

\----

**4:49PM Renee: **Hey. So, Syndicate personnel were just here. Wouldn’t tell us why. Saw them loading a bunch of weird shit into the room next to yours. Figured it was probably stuff for that Forge guy.

**4:49PM Renee:** Got curious tho, so I phased in once they were gone. It does NOT look like a normal bedroom. There’s a huge charging dock but it’s not like the one Silva charges his legs on, and so many damn monitors stacked on the desk and stuck to the wall, I thought I was in your room for a second. No bed, either. Wonder what that’s about.

**4:51PM Hyeon:** Strange. Perhaps our new competitor isn’t entirely human. Or they just haven’t brought the bed in yet?

**4:51PM Renee:** Meh, he looks human enough. Anyway, just thought you might wanna know since you haven’t been on the ship in forever and this new guy is gonna be your neighbor. He seems obnoxious as fuck TBH, I haven’t met him yet, but word on the street is he’s already bragging about how he’s gonna kick everyone’s ass. He better watch out, if he messes with me, he’s liable to get stabbed. 

**4:52PM Renee: **I dunno, maybe I’m being paranoid. Just got a real weird feeling about this dude. Hardware was everywhere but I’m not too surprised, the guy wears the Hammond robotics logo like it’s a fucking tattoo. Maybe the charging dock is for his arm? It was BIG though, like the one Path uses.

**4:52PM Hyeon:** Perhaps you’re right. Thank you for the info. 

Park is glad the holidays are over, but he is not thrilled about what he’s just learned. Another legend with technological skills could be bad for him. One that is partially- or mostly-robotic could be very, very bad for him. Pathfinder had a sunny disposition and certainly didn’t seem like the type to feed intel to the Syndicate, thankfully, but the next new legend...there was no telling what his story was, or what his motivations might be. James ‘the Forge’ McCormick seemed like an absolute idiot, but Tae Joon had been incorrect in his initial assessments of some of the other legends, so he was trying not to underestimate the man. All Park knew for sure about the new legend was that he didn’t want to sleep on the other side of the guy’s wall. Doubly so if the fucker was as hard to kill as Pathfinder.

_C’mon, Syndicate. Throw me a bone. At least pick a legend that’s easy to look at._

Forge wasn’t ugly, per-se. Not physically, at least. But his abhorrent attitude was hideous. Like Elliott, he was loud-mouthed and vain, egotistical. But it wasn’t the same sort of charming, self-deprecating vanity that Elliott displayed -- it reeked of corruption, of the willingness to hurt others just to boost himself up.

Also, the scar bisecting Elliott’s eyebrow was far more attractive than the gash over the newest legend’s eye, which just served as more evidence to support Park’s theory that the man was brain-damaged -- likely from being smashed in the face with The Ugly Stick. Repeatedly. He was like some sort of awful reflection of the man Park loved, he was the anti-Elliott. You could tell because whenever the man spoke, it was clear he believed his own bullshit, and actually thought he was god’s gift to the Frontier.

None of that particularly mattered, though. What mattered was the way McCormick looked at Elliott. Neither Park nor the trickster had even spoken to the man yet, but he’d been hanging around the arena in preparation for the new season, and Park hadn’t missed the way the man winked in Elliott’s direction when he answered a reporter’s question about his relationship status. Later, Park had seen him make no effort to hide the way he stared at Renee as she bent over her backpack, digging around in it for something. That was when Park declared war. The way McCormick looked at his friends made him want to punch a hole through the barrel-chested bastard at the first opportunity. He couldn’t wait to meet the fool in the ring, when he’d have to put his money (well, his gun) where his mouth was. The man talked a big game, but men like him usually did -- a big mouth was a good way to distract observers from...other inadequacies.

The_ Mirage Voy’age _ was now parked just off the map, hovering over the shore near Overlook. It could no longer be accessed during matches -- _ thank the fucking gods, that music was impossible to hear over _ \-- but after an excessive amount of begging, pouting, and a _ very _overdramatic, unbelievably-empty threat from Elliott to quit the Games entirely, the Syndicate had relented and agreed to keep the ship near World’s Edge, saying they’d consider his request to park it on the map for the upcoming season. Technically, the legends were only permitted to board it during the weekend, but it was just sitting there out in the open, tethered to the island by a series of zip lines. Apparently, the Syndicate’s idea of “secure” was locking the door and calling it a day. A handful of electronic locks were nothing Jee couldn’t handle, which meant Tae Joon could grab Elliott and retreat to the Boyfriend Boat whenever the desire stuck him.

Desire had been striking him a lot lately.

But he hadn’t even needed to break in, because after another round of threats and puppydog eyes from Elliott, the folks at the top threw up their hands, deactivating the ship’s security system on the condition that Elliott share the ship with the other legends. Which he technically was -- Renee and Park joined him on the ship for dinner almost every night. 

Everything about the Syndicate made Tae Joon’s skin crawl, but he had to admit -- watching Elliott emotionally manipulate them into giving him access to the ship was _ immensely _ satisfying. Watching Elliott do anything was immensely satisfying though, generally speaking. 

_ Guess I’m not the only one who can never say no to you. _

_ Not that I’d ever want to. _

It’s Saturday afternoon. Park would have honestly preferred to spend the entire day holo-cuffed to the bed, at the mercy of his gorgeous boyfriend. Unfortunately, he has other tasks that need taking care of. Before he can attend to them, though, his phone buzzes.

**Min 10:12AM: ** Okay, so, two things--  
**Min 10:12AM: ** Thing #1: You two are so adorable I’m seriously going to puke.  
**Min 10:12AM: ** Thing #2: You’re totally fucking that cute little hologram, aren’t you?  
**Hyeon 10:13AM:** Am not.  
  
It’s _ technically _ not a lie. He’s _ not _ fucking the decoy. Not the shy one. Not yet.

**Min 10:13AM:** Bullshit. You were eyefucking that poor thing the whole time I tattooed Elliott.  
**Hyeon 10:13AM:** Didn’t say I don’t want to be fucking it. It’s a work in progress.  
**Min 10:14AM:** You’re a fuckin’ mess, dude. You need to be careful, seriously. I found another one of your posters on the mainland today.  
**Hyeon 10:14AM:** 젠장. Did you take it down?  
**Hyeon 10:15AM:** ???  
**Min 10:15AM:** Duh.  
  
Park exhaled, but he was only slightly relieved. He hadn’t spotted his wanted poster outside his homeworld of Gaea in a long, long time. Until recently, at least. He’d ripped one down on the mainland just the day before. It was tacked to a wall right outside Min’s bar, and had nearly given him a goddamn heart attack when he caught sight of it while he stood outside, vaping during Elliott’s tattoo appointment. The fact that his wanted poster was now showing up outside his favorite haunts on a repeat basis was probably not a good sign.

**Min 10:16AM:** Anyway, that boy is madly in love with you. You know that, right?  
**Min 10:17AM:** You should hear the way he talks about you.  
**Min 10:17AM:** How much does he know?

Park groaned, ignoring the last three messages that popped up on his AR display. The idea that Elliott Witt, _ the _ Elliott Witt -- the gorgeous, charming, famous, fucking _ lethal _ Mirage -- was falling in love with him...it was too much to process. Just thinking about it fried his circuits.

Because deep down, Tae Joon knew he’d fallen, too.  
  


Elliott had been sleeping when he slipped out of the bed -- _ their _ bed -- and into the bathroom to take a shower. Park didn’t want to disturb his slumber, in part because he’d kept the poor man up until nearly 5AM the night before. Elliott had spent most of his Friday evening bound and blindfolded, begging for his boyfriend’s cock until he lost his voice. 

_ Okay, the temporary voice loss was probably from the throat-fucking, not the begging. _

The point is, Elliott deserved to catch a little extra shut-eye.

He also looked so damn pretty when he slept, Park just couldn’t bear to wake him sometimes.

_ Fuck, jagi. How do you manage to tease me when you’re not even conscious? _

Elliott was just so...beautiful. He was handsome, too, but in that moment -- as he lay there naked and tangled in the sheets, with every perfect inch of that perfect body on full display -- he was fucking beautiful. Stunning. Sublime.

Elliott’s face was normally so expressive. It took Park’s breath away sometimes, seeing him like this instead, lost in slumber’s sweet embrace, his gorgeous face a picture of perfect serenity. Park found himself torn between the urge to reach out and touch him -- to pull some of those soft little sighs from his lips, the kind that always go straight to Crypto’s dick whenever he hears one -- and the urge to continue standing there, watching, and...possibly jerking off.

Since both options made him feel like a fucking creep, he’d gone with option number three: _ take a cold shower and get your shit together, Park. _

But afterwards, when he opened the bathroom door and walked back into their bedroom with damp hair and a towel around his waist, he was met with a sight so fucking delicious, he was positive he’d soon need another frigid shower. Several of them, probably.

Because when Tae Joon returns to their room, Elliott is kneeling on the bed with his ass in the air and his face in the mattress. Behind him, _ another _ Elliott -- the real one, Park distantly realizes -- is also kneeling, but his face is buried in the first Elliott’s ass.

Park opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a soft sort of choking noise, because _ holy fuck. _

_ Wow. This is the best dream I’ve had in a really long time. _

The decoy hears him, lifting its head from the mattress to investigate the source of the sound. When its eyes fall on Park, every single ounce of blood in his body immediately rushes into his cock, because he can tell from the innocent, curious look in its eyes -- it is _ definitely _ the shy one. The one he’d nearly ended up fucking right there on the bow of the ship a only few weeks before. The one he’d watched cum all over itself -- _ and _ Renee -- at the Christmas party. 

The one he was absolutely _ dying _ to fuck.

_ Oh _ ** _god._ **

It gasps when it sees him, eyes going wide. Park can’t help it -- almost instantly, he grips his bulge through the towel and licks his lips like he had the night he caught it staring at him. It fucking _ whimpers, _immediately blushing from head to toe and letting out a soft moan. The shy little thing is unable to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time, but unwilling to stop trying, apparently.

_ Fuck, jagi. _

_ Just...fuck. _

The real Elliott finally pulls his face from where it’s buried in that _ perfect fucking ass, _ and for a moment, his eyes go wide, too. But a second later, his shocked expression has been replaced with a wicked grin, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were still here, I’d have invited you,” the trickster says as he brings a hand down on one of the decoy’s asscheeks, eliciting a pathetic cry. The poor little hologram buries its pretty face in a pillow, squirming in a way that suggests it wants _ more. _

“You’re free to join us, if you’d like,” Elliott purrs, looking almost predatory. Those ivory fangs are peeking out from between his lips even though nobody’s bleeding, and it only serves to make Park’s cock throb harder.

But as tempting as the offer sounds, Tae Joon finds he has other desires.

“Would you--” he stops himself, unsure exactly how to word it. He can feel his own cheeks reddening now, and takes a deep breath. 

“Is it--do you mind if I, er, if I...watch?”

Elliott’s grin goes from mischievous to fucking _ wicked _ the moment the sentence has left Park’s mouth. The decoy buries its face in the bed again, letting out an embarrassed little sob.

“Oh, _ sugar,” _ Elliott groans, eyes roving over Park’s nearly-naked form. “Anything you fuckin’ want.”

_ Don’t say that, or this poor little thing is going to end up impaled on my dick. _

_ Fuck, is it possible to kill a decoy? _

Park is a little worried that he might accidentally do exactly that. Just overload the poor thing’s sexual circuitry and make it cum so hard it corrupts its own save file.

He takes a seat on the small loveseat across from the bed, palming his rapidly-stiffening cock through the damp fabric of his towel again, becoming vaguely aware that he’s _ not _ in a dream. Elliott slaps the decoy’s ass a second time, leaning down to drag his tongue from the whimpering hologram’s balls up to its tight little hole before plunging in. The decoy tenses up and squeals, but after a moment it lets out a pleasured sigh, melting against his mouth and pressing its hips back against Elliott's face with a soft little _ mmph! _ sound.

Then Elliott’s pulling back again, responding to his decoy’s needy, protesting moan with another vicious crack across its perfect little ass. Park’s loosened the towel from around his waist now. He tugs it open, freeing his cock, which throbs and leaks little beads of precum over his fingers with each stroke of his synthetic palm. He watches as Elliott sucks two of his own thick fingers into his mouth, tonguing them obscenely. Then he’s spreading those sweet, spanked-red cheeks and burying both fingers in the decoy’s ass.

The decoy sobs into the mattress, rutting its hips back on Elliott’s fingers with a desperate whine.

“Oh no, no hiding today,” Elliott scolds him, threading the fingers of his other hand through the decoy’s curly hair and yanking it back up against his chest, putting it on display so Park can see its drooling cock, see how it's arching up towards the gorgeous creature's stomach and leaking from the tip. “Today you’re putting on a show for us.”

The decoy whimpers again, and Park sees its dick twitch at Elliott’s words. The poor thing is so hard its cock is almost purple.

The trickster curls his fingers cruelly into its ass.

_“Ah!_ _Mnnn,_ p-please…” it moans, head lolling back onto Elliott’s shoulder.

Elliott looks positively _ depraved, _ his pretty brown eyes locked on Park’s as he drags his lips up the side of his body double’s throat.

“What is it, sugar? D’you need me to get you off? You really want me to make you cum all over yourself when we have _ company?” _ he groans, voice rough with desire. “Little slut.”

“Daddy, _ please!” _ the decoy sobs out, beginning to tremble in Elliott’s arms.

Park is trembling too, because _ fuck, it calls him Daddy? _

_ Well, this is it. I am done for. Game over. _

It’s hot enough when Elliott’s dominating _ him. _ Watching him do it to someone else -- watching him do it to _ himself, _ teasing and toying with the poor little decoy, with his own eyes locked on Park the entire time -- it’s almost enough to send Crypto over the edge, and he has to squeeze the base of his dick so hard it hurts to stop it from happening.

He’s forced to repeat the action again a moment later, when a distant part of his brain starts to wonder how Renee would look pulled back against Elliott’s chest, on display just like the decoy, begging him to touch her.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

“Filthy thing,” Elliott growls, pausing for a moment to drag his fangs over the decoy’s shoulder, eliciting a soft whimper. “I knew you liked to watch. Didn’t know you liked to _ perform, _ though.”

There are tears welling in the sweet thing’s eyes, threatening to spill over onto its cheeks, and _ fuck, _ watching it cry shouldn’t be so god damn fucking hot but it _ is. _

_ God, what is wrong with me? _

_ “Please!” _ Elliott’s twin gasps out breathlessly. “Please touch me, Daddy…”

_ I’m going to lose my mind if I can’t have you soon, fuck... _

It’s leaned its head back against Elliott’s shoulder, exposing its throat to the trickster’s wicked mouth as he sucks at the tender flesh just below his doppelganger’s ear. Between its trembling thighs, the poor thing’s cock looks painful -- it’s swollen, still a deep shade of purple-red, twitching up towards the decoy’s belly every few moments, every time Elliott speaks to it. The trickster’s twin is shaking in his arms, his pretty, tan skin turned a lovely pink shade from the chest up -- whether from the fucking or the shame, Park can't quite tell.

_ God, look at you. I was wrong, I’m not going to wreck you. I am going to fucking _ ** _destroy_ ** _ that tight little ass. _

Elliott brings the hand that isn’t knuckle-deep in holographic ass up to stroke gently through the decoy’s hair. Its eyes fall shut with a soft sigh as it leans back against his chest. When Park meets his boyfriend’s gaze again, the look in those pretty brown eyes makes his cock twitch.

“I guess you _ have _ been a good boy today,” Elliott purrs against its throat, chuckling at the desperate little _ mhmm! _ that escapes his doppelganger in reply. “I dunno, though. What do you think, baby?”

It takes Tae Joon a second to realize Elliott’s talking to him. When his brain catches up, he can’t help but grin. The decoy is whimpering and giving him the most desperate, pleading look he’s ever seen on Elliott’s face, and _ fuck, _ there’s no way he can resist teasing it a little. It’s spent plenty of fucking time teasing _ him. _

_ “Hmmmm,” _ Park replies with a lecherous smirk, making no effort to hide the way he lets his eyes linger on the decoy’s aching cock, nor the lazy, languid way he’s stroking himself as he looks at the pretty little thing. “I don’t know if he has.”

The decoy looks absolutely horrified.

“But I’m sure you can find a way to make him behave,_ jagi,” _ Park continues, gaze drifting back to Elliott for a moment. “You’re very, very good at that.”

The decoy whines, brows knotted in an expression of pure desperation, cock drooling so much precum it’s starting to drip down onto the bed. But then Elliott’s arm flexes, and Park can tell from the look on the decoy’s face that the trickster has got those devious fingers of his pressed _ right _up against its sweet spot, because it’s starting to cry again, but still rutting back against his hand.

“Hear that, sweetheart? He’s gonna let you cum, must be your lucky day. You’ll have to show him how grateful you are sometime soon…”

_ Oh fuck, please, yes. _

The decoy hums, like it’s on board with the idea.

_ Careful, little one. If you keep acting like you want it, I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth so hard you won’t be able to moan for a week. _

“Maybe you can show us _ both _ how grateful you are, you eager little slut,” Elliott hisses in its ear as he shoots Tae Joon a wink.

As hard as Park is trying to keep things under control, Elliott’s _ fucking mouth _ is doing him in. It always does. He’s not sure he can last much longer, which is embarrassing because neither version of Elliott has even come close to touching its cock yet.

Well, until now.

_ “Agh! _ Oh Daddy, yes-- _ oh!” _ the hologram cries out when Elliott wraps his hand around its cock and gives it a gentle stroke. _ “Ahhhhnnnnn…” _

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let him hear you,” Elliott grunts.

_ Yes, let me hear you, fuck… _

Tears are streaking down the decoy’s cheeks and dripping from its chin now as it thrusts forward into Elliott’s grip, slick with the absolutely obscene amount of precum that has been leaking out of the poor thing for what feels like ages now.

Well, most of it’s precum. Some of it is _ definitely _tears, though -- Park knows because he’s watching them drip from the decoy’s chin down onto its swollen cock.

_ Fuck, jagi. This is so fucking filthy, _ he thinks, knowing this is the exact moment he’s going to revist via his AR display when he’s jerking himself off to the memory later.

“Oh god,” the decoy moans, voice louder than it’s been all day. “Please let me c-c-cum, p-please--_ mnghh, _s-so close--”

The decoy’s thighs are trembling now, and it looks like it might collapse if it weren’t for Elliott holding it up. Its breathing has grown ragged, uneven, and punctuated with little gasps and hiccups.

_ “Ah! Ah! Ah!” _

_ Fucking hell, jagiya. _

It looks like it’s about to blow, eyes screwed shut and teeth digging into its bottom lip. Elliott tears his eyes away from Park’s for a moment, and when he glances at the decoy in his arms, he makes a dissatisfied _ tsk _ing sound, slowing the movement of his hands to a torturous, teasing pace. The decoy can’t seem to form any actual words, but the pleading, needy wail that leaves its lips is nearly enough to make Crypto lose his mind completely.

_ Fuck, please… _

“No hiding, remember?” Elliott purrs into the shy decoy’s ear with a gleeful wickedness that goes straight to Park’s dick. “I want you to look him in the eyes when you cum, sugar.”

_ Oh my god, Elliott. _

With a tortured little whine, the decoy forces its eyes open again, trying its best to focus them on Park. Elliott’s eyes are on him now, too.

“That’s a good boy,” Park says before he can stop himself. _"Geuleon joh-eun sonyeon, jal hasseo.” _

The sound that escapes the decoy’s pretty mouth has Park nearly cumming right there. Elliott’s stroking the beautiful creature’s cock again, trailing kisses across one shoulder and grunting as he fucks it with his fingers. The decoy trembles from head to toe, eyes open and fixed on Park, but unfocused, like the poor thing is so fucked-out it can’t even see straight. 

“Oh g-g-god,” it gasps

“Are you going to cum for us, baby?” Elliott asks, thrusting his fingers as deep as they’ll go for a little extra emphasis.

Tae Joon is pretty sure Elliott’s talking to the decoy, but that doesn’t stop him from sobbing out _ “YES” _ right along with it.

And when Elliott says, “Then c’mon, cum for Daddy,” he groans it into the decoy’s ear, but he’s looking Park dead in the eye as he does.

_ Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck-- _

The gorgeous little hologram breaks first, spilling all over the sheets and crying “Oh god! Ohgodyes, Daddy, _ fuck!” _ as it shudders helplessly in Elliott’s arms.

Barely a second later Tae Joon fucking _ shatters _, and he’s hit so hard with the force of his orgasm, he feels a little cum land on the synthetic skin covering his throat.

_ “Agh, _ fuck--oh my _ god, jagi--” _

_ Fuck… _

_ “Fuck,” _ Elliott gasps, finally pulling his fingers from the decoy and letting it collapse onto the bed below him with a soft cry.

His right hand is still covered in the decoy’s sticky warmth, and Park watches, gasping and still shaking with the fading waves of his orgasm as Elliott slicks his own length with the decoy’s cum and starts to stroke his aching cock. His eyes fall shut and his head falls back, throat exposed as he groans, thrusting up into his own palm. 

_ “Nghhh, _ fuck,” he groans, starting to shake as he strokes himself, almost growling with the effort of fucking into his own hand.

A few moments later, Elliott reaches his left hand down to grip one of the decoy’s ass cheeks, spreading them and groaning lewdly at the sight. He hooks a finger into the decoy’s abused little hole, holding it open with one hand as he jerks himself off with the other.

_ So dirty, jagiya... _

Then, after a few more strokes, he cums right into -- and all over -- his decoy’s gaping hole with a ragged, wrecked cry.

_ Oh my fucking _ ** _god,_ ** _ Elliott. _

Park feels almost dizzy, like he might not be able to keep himself standing if he tried to do so.

_ “Mmmm,” _ the decoy sighs, wiggling its hips a little bit as Elliott finishes marking his territory, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his decoy’s neck before collapsing next to it on the bed and pulling it into his arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Yes,” Park finally manages, once his bloodstream is capable of supplying oxygen to his brain again. “Thank you.”

Elliott -- both of him -- giggles.

\-----

As much as she’s desperate to see her beautiful cave-dwelling friend again, Renee’s not sure she can handle it. Not after what she did in the ring. Even knowing there was no way he could have seen what she’d gotten up to in the Games that day, she feared he’d be able to sense it somehow. She feared those too-blue eyes would see right through her bullshit.

But the man had to eat. And there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d willingly miss a chance to feel his mouth on her thigh again, even though it drove her insane. Even though she almost hated it, because it _ always _ stopped there, and she never wanted it to. Blood wasn’t the only thing her swimsuit was soaked in by the time that _ perfect fucking mouth _ would finally release her.

With a deep sigh, she stepped into the Void. Moments later, she was stepping out of a portal and onto the snow-covered ground of the Shadow world.

“Hey, you in there?” she called out as she approached the hidden entrance to the vampire’s lair.

The holographic door disappeared into thin air.

“Hey,” she said again, stepping into his room. 

The vampire was leaning over his desk with his back to her. He didn’t turn around when he heard her enter the room.

“Um, you okay?” she asked softly, beginning to worry.

_There is no way he knows. Chill the fuck out, Renee._

“Yes,” he replied after a moment, finally turning to face her. 

She could see from his face that it wasn’t the truth. Something was on his mind. God only knew what.

“Shall we?” the gorgeous creature asked, gesturing towards the bookcase concealing the entrance to the hidden grotto.

“Yeah,” she said, unsure if things were really as awkward as they felt, or if it was just her guilty conscience haunting her. 

It wasn’t long until he was on his knees before her, arms bound, dragging those far-too-kissable lips up the inside of her thigh. She gasped when she felt that forked tongue dart out to taste her skin, leaving a hot trail of wetness in its wake.

_ God damn you, dude. Is the licking absolutely necessary? Can we just get this over with if you’re going to be such a tease? _

He’d been acting strange ever since she arrived. Too quiet. Something was different about the way he was looking at her as he tortured her with his devil’s tongue. She bit back the indecent sound that threatened to leave her lips when she felt his fangs graze her flesh, but it spilled out of her anyway a moment later when his tongue slid past his lips, just barely slipping beneath the seam of her swimsuit bottoms. It wasn’t enough to do anything but make her whine in desperation. That perfect mouth was _ so fucking close _to where she really wanted it, she couldn’t help but whine.

The creature growled, nudging her legs further apart just a little more forcefully than usual. When it dragged that wicked tongue over the fabric right between her thighs, she couldn’t help it anymore.

_ “Please!” _ she gasped, too desperate to feel ashamed of herself. There’d be plenty of time for shame later. The creature groaned against her skin.

“God, Tae Joon. Please…” she sighed again, burying her fingers in his silky hair.

The beast again dragged its tongue over the fabric separating his mouth from her cunt. Then, with a groan, he buried those razor-sharp fangs in the side of her thigh.  
  
“Fuck!”

It wasn’t what she _ really _ wanted, but it was close enough. So close that it took her a moment to stop her hips from jerking forward against his face. The pain was better than the endless fucking teasing of his tongue against her skin when she knew it wouldn’t go anywhere else. At least with the pain, there was _ some _release. The fact that he was being just a tiny bit rougher with her than usual only made her want more.

The dull, thumping ache of her pulse against his mouth was intoxicating. It didn’t make sense, it should fucking _ hurt, _ and sometimes it did, but only after that heavenly mouth was no longer on her skin. It always healed up within a day or two, which was much slower than normal, though she imagined that had something to do with the amount of venom the nanobots were having to filter out of her bloodstream on a weekly basis.

She liked it though, the fact that he left a mark. She couldn’t help but wonder what his fangs might feel like sinking into her throat. Whenever she thought about what he must have looked like sinking those teeth into Elliott, her stomach did an anxious sort of flip. 

She tried to ignore the wave of desperate desire that always followed.

_ Fuck. _

She opened her eyes, which she’d shut in the first place to ensure she didn’t have to look at the beautiful face between her thighs. His teeth weren’t in her anymore, replaced by his tongue as he lapped at the fresh wound. She couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than the teeth. It was a tie. His tongue dipped just beneath the edge of her swimsuit again and he groaned, the vibrations of his voice tickling her thigh.

_ This is so unfair, god. _

He pulled back for a moment, catching his breath, and the moonlight streaming through the cracks in the ceiling of the cave fell across his lap.

_ Oh. Goodness. _

She wasn’t sure why it shocked her. She wasn’t necessarily _ surprised _ that he was...responding physically to the situation, especially since she herself became embarrassingly aroused at the mere thought of that mouth anywhere near her skin. But actually _ seeing _ him there on his knees with her blood smeared all around his mouth, dripping onto his bare chest, down onto the outline of his erection, which was plain as day, straining against those _ fucking pants _ \-- it was just too much. She couldn’t stand it, but she wanted more. She wanted anything, everything. Whatever he’d willingly give her, she wanted it.

When he leaned forward again and brought his mouth back to her flesh, she sighed. Then she shifted the leg that he wasn’t biting and gently nudged her ankle against the place where his pants had suddenly grown very tight.

He moaned into her skin, hips jerking forward and grinding desperately against her shin a few times before he pulled away with a tortured groan.

“Renee,” he warned, voice ragged with need.

“Oh, sorry!” she squeaked, moving her leg away like she hadn’t done it on purpose.

The beautiful man kneeling at her feet leaned forward again, but his eyes were fixed on her now, like he didn’t trust her not to do something else to tempt him as he tongued the fresh wound. 

It wasn’t long before he pulled back again, finally sated. She reached for the little keychain at her side, pressing the button to release his arms and wishing she’d done it while he still had his mouth on her, even though she knew he’d be absolutely furious with her if she did.

Just when she finally felt like she was beginning to get ahold of herself, a warm hand slid between her thighs and pressed into the wound. She knew it was only to keep her from bleeding out all over the floor over his cave, but it still made her gasp. His hands were always so damn cold, but right now they felt impossibly good, pressing against the hot flesh of her inner thigh.

Neither of them spoke in the moments that followed. An uncomfortable tension hung thick in the air between them, unaddressed but unable to be ignored. Once she’d finished awkwardly getting dressed again, she met him back in his bedroom. He was back at his desk again, thumbing through a rather ancient textbook. She tried to get a look at it over his shoulder, but the tome was printed in his mother tongue.

“Are you...okay?” she asked, almost surprised by the timidness in her voice.

“Yes.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped back a little too quickly. “Will you please just tell me what’s up?”

He slammed the book shut, sighing with exasperation and pinching at the bridge of his nose the same way Park did when she was starting to irritate him.

“Are you trying to drive me mad, Renee?”

“Am I...what?” She was pretty sure he was referring to the way she’d pressed her leg between his thighs while his face had been buried between her own. She was definitely sticking to her story. It was an accident. Totally.

“Are you trying to make me lose my mind?”

“Uh, w-what do y--”

“Please,” he interrupted. “Don’t insult me with a lie.”

“Will you just say what you mean, then?” She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly raising her voice.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like, having to _ hear _ it?” he asked, voice shaking a little bit. “I can block out the sight, but the sounds--he is _ so loud.” _

“Dude, what? Who are you--”

She stops, frozen in place by one single, terrible realization: when she’d gunned Elliott down to ensure he (and therefore the vampire) didn’t witness her escapades in the ring that afternoon, _ he hadn’t left a deathbox. _

Which meant she hadn’t actually shot _ him. _

Which meant she’d been bamboozled.

Which meant he had likely still been nearby when she _ fucking molested _ his boyfriend. And if _ Elliott _ saw it, if he _ thought _ about it…

_ FUCK. _

“I’m a fool for letting you talk me into this,” the creature murmurs, staring down at his hands. “I can’t...I can’t keep feeding from you. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t have done it tonight, but I’m weak. Selfish.”  
  


_ You’re selfish? Are you kidding? Did you SEE what I did at work today?! _

  
“Please, Tae Joon--”

“No. I’ve put you in enough danger as it is. It’s my fault for not realizing it sooner, I just--” he paused, sighing and shaking his head. “I thought--I didn’t realize...you only want me because I look like him.”

_ “Excuse me?” _ she snapped, feeling like she might explode.

_ Pretty sure it’s the other way around, buddy. _

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he says miserably. “Please just go.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

\--

_ “Fuck!” _ she hisses, stepping back into her room on the drop ship.

_ You idiot. This is what you get. This is exactly what you deserve. _

She tries to swallow back the tears because Renee Blasey does not fucking cry, but it’s useless.

_ Come on, get it together. Deep breaths. Count backwards from 10, like Dr. Reid says. _

She gets to 7 before she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She feels something inside of her snap, and then something inside of her _ wrist _ snaps when her fist connects with the smooth glass surface, shattering her reflection into a hundred tiny pieces.

\---

Nox’s eyes widen a bit when he answers the door, whatever smartass comment he planned to make wiped from his tongue the moment he sets eyes on her hand.  
  
“Ms. Blasey,” he murmurs, actually looking a little concerned. “Didn’t expect to find you outside my door at this hour.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you were expecting Natalie,” Renee grumbles, adjusting the blood-soaked towel that’s wrapped around her fist. “You got a minute?”  
  
“For you? Of course,” he replies, sounding unperturbed but turning slightly pink at the mention of his favorite legend. “Am I to assume this is another medical issue you don’t feel comfortable bringing to our dear friend Ajay?”  
  
“Look,” Renee snaps. “Are you gonna help or not?”  
  
“By all means,” he replied, with that stupid, smug grin. “The doctor is in.”

_ How the fuck do you stand this guy, Nat? Ugh. For fuck’s sake. _

\---

“Four separate shattered bones and a lacerated tendon,” Nox droned on in that irritating _ I’m-so-fucking-smart _voice he so often favored. Renee bit her tongue, thinking it unwise to snipe back while the madman was still in the process of gluing her back together.

Really, it was sort of surprising Park didn’t get along with the man. They were both grumpy, smug assholes from Gaea with an irritating habit of being right about everything.

“I’m impressed, Blasey,” the scientist continued. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone fit so many injuries into such a small hand before. That must have taken considerable effort.”

Renee glared back silently as he finished passing the dermal regenerator over the back of her hand.

Nox paused when the lights began to flicker, something that had become a regular occurence in the last week. Renee had seen Hyeon just about snap over it the day before, grumbling under his breath in Korean and shrugging off his jacket before climbing onto an end table in the common room and ripping a sheet of metal paneling off the ceiling with a screwdriver he had seemingly pulled out of thin air, like one of Elliott’s magic tricks. But even after an hour spent elbow-deep in the ship’s guts, he found nothing, and was no closer to figuring out what was causing the irritating, incessant flickering. It bothered him, he said, because it should be a simple diagnosis and an easy fix. But _ “maybe there’s an electrical storm brewing or something,” _was his final diagnosis, and even Hyeon didn’t look like he believed it.

“It will be sore, go easy on it for a few days,” Nox added, pulling her out of the memory. “I don’t want you back on my doorstep tomorrow night because you decided to arm wrestle one of your little friends.”

“‘Kay” she muttered, feeling rather awkward. Being around the mad scientist when he wasn’t gassing people or pointing a gun in her face was _ incredibly _ unnerving.

“You’re aware there are more pleasurable avenues of self-destruction than putting your fist through a mirror, yes? I’m sure Mr. Witt would be more than happy to introduce you to a few of them. Probably starting with those mushrooms...”

Renee huffed, folding her arms. 

_ How the fuck--I didn’t even tell him I punched the mirror! _

“So,” he continued, hooking two synthetic fingers under the cuff of a blue latex glove and tugging it off, then depositing it into the biohazard box where he’d tossed the first glove a moment earlier. “Will that be all, or do you have other medical needs of a clandestine nature for me to attend to in return for zero compensation?”

“You’re getting compensated plenty, asshole,” Renee snapped back, grimacing when she recalled what she’d witnessed between them at the Christmas party. “I haven’t murdered you for touching Natalie yet.”  
  
“I see,” Nox replied with a smirk, slipping back into the yellow rubber gloves he used to conceal his fingers and the murderous truth of his identity.

“But there is this one other thing,” Renee murmured, suddenly feeling a little less brave.

She took a deep breath.

_ Fucking needles. _

But before she could panic over fucking needles, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Leaning out of the metal folding chair to get a better look, she nearly screamed.

_ Fucking spiders. _

Situated in the darkest corner of Nox’s room was an enormous glass terrarium. Within it were several live arachnids, also fucking enormous.

“Hey, quick question -- what in the almighty _ fuck _ are those things, and why are you keeping them on the ship?” she asked, shuddering as she watched the creatures crawl around on those awful, spindly legs.

They were nearly identical to the holographic spiders that could be found in loot bins during the Shadowfall games, except these spiders were about a billion times more terrifying, as they were undeniably real, and thus never stopped moving, crawling all over each other with those awful, writhing legs.

They probably took a few more bullets to put down than their holographic counterpart, too.

Nox laughed.

_ “Scarabaeidae Arachnia,” _ he replied. “A predator native to my homeland. Delightfully venomous. Even their corpses can’t be handled with bare hands.”  
  
It was starting to freak her out, how Nox was just...cool with talking to her about things. Once he was fairly assured she wouldn’t reveal his darkest secret to Natalie, he seemingly became comfortable enough to just...tell her stuff. Little details like where he was from -- nothing terribly important or particularly hard to find out. Still, it was strange to see the guy as even remotely human. It made her feel thrown off her game, like everything she thought she knew was really something else.

“That’s, uh, really something,” Renee said, horrified. She tried not to sound too repulsed by his choice in house pet. He _ was _ doing her a pretty big favor. 

Well, two of them. Again.

_ Fucking vampire. Fucking needles. _

“Yes. Their venom makes for excellent chemical weaponry,” Nox added, sounding almost fond of the horrible creatures. “Irritates the mucous membranes.”

“Oh, how nice,” she replied, unable to hide her utter repulsion. 

“Ah yes, judge the spiders,” Nox grumbled, going to replace his yellow rubber gloves with a fresh blue latex pair for the second time that evening. “But you welcome the presence of that _ infernal _ bird. I’ll never understand you lot. At least my housepets don’t shit on the kitchen countertops.”  
  
Renee burst into laughter, despite her determination to maintain Resting Bitch-Face for the duration of her visit. The only thing creepier than being around Nox was getting along with him.

“You let one of those things loose anywhere _ near _ the kitchen countertops and you’re gonna have a very heated discussion with the pointy end of my knife, Nox.”

\-----

Tae Joon’s sleep patterns aren’t exactly stable, and when he does sleep, his dreams are rarely pleasant -- nightmares have been especially frequent in the years since Mila’s murder. It’s been months since he had one this bad, though. His sleep has been mercifully dreamless since the night he dreamed up that terrifying version of Elliott standing over their bed, watching.

But this night was different.

This night he dreams of cold, cruel hands. They pin him to the bed, and there’s nothing he can do. Then they’re around his throat, squeezing hard enough his vision blurs. It’s a dream he’s had so many times before, he doesn’t even fight it. He lets his sister’s faceless killer finish what they started.

And somehow, it’s not her killer anymore -- it’s the Elliott he’d previously dreamed of. It’s leering down at him with its fangs out, smiling as it slowly squeezes the life out of him. Then it leans back, out of the moonlight, cloaked in shadows until all Park can see is the glint of lunar light reflecting off those sharp, white teeth.

But when it leans back down again, it’s _ him. _ It’s the monster from the cave, and the fangs belong to it, and those murderous teeth are gnashing just centimeters from his face. Park’s hands fly to the creature’s wrists, nails digging into its purple flesh as he fights desperately to escape the monster’s iron grasp. They wrestle on the floor of the cave until somehow, by some strange miracle, he’s suddenly on top of it with his synthetic palms pressing into the demon’s gilded throat. The beast beneath him looks fucking _ terrified, _ and it whimpers when he leans forward to lick its artificial skin from collarbone to jaw.

It feels good, finally getting a little payback, and it’s well worth the pain of the creature’s claws digging into his wrists as it tries in vain to pry his hands from around its throat.

_ Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not fun, eh? _

Then the lights blink on and off for a moment before going out entirely. Which is strange, because there shouldn’t be any lights, because they’re in the cave.

_ Goddamn fucking piece of shit dropship, what drunk sonofabitch did the wiring for this clunker, I could have done a more competent job with both hands tied behind my back and a stomach full of soju, I swear to fucking god, these cheap Syndicate asshats-- _

The lights flicker back to life, and the creature that was beneath him is now something else entirely.

It’s a Shadow, unmistakably. But it’s not Elliott’s, not the one that pleasured him on the floor of the cave. It’s an unfamiliar shape, with limbs that are almost skeletal, and it’s difficult to make out the finer details through the thick black smoke that curls around it, floating out of the glowing cracks in the creature’s flesh and twisting up into the air around them. There’s no mistaking those eyes, though. Their yellowed glow is piercing even through the strange, dark smoke that pours out of the bizarre-looking creature.

There’s no mistaking the searing burn of its body beneath his own, either. He can feel the heat even through the synthetics covering his palms, he can feel it through his clothes, between his thighs, everywhere a part of him is connected to the beast beneath him. It fucking _ burns, _so deeply and so suddenly he yelps, releasing his grip on the creature’s throat as he scrambles to get away. 

It may be absolutely terrifying, but unlike the vampire, he’s not entirely sure it _ deserves _ the choking. Not yet, at least.

Park leans back, still straddling it but resting his weight on the mattress instead of the creature beneath him.

_ Wait, aren’t we in the cave? _

The creature blinks, its yellow gaze flickering just like the lights on the dropship.

Then its arm is a knife and it’s forcing the great blade right through the center of Tae Joon's chest.  
  
_ “AHHHHH!” _

Tae Joon lands ass-first on something cold and flat and hard.

_ “Aghh! _ Babe! _ Babe, _ you’re okay, it’s just me!” Elliott chokes out from somewhere in the darkness.

A light comes on, and _ thank fuck, _ it doesn’t flicker.

Elliott’s staring down at him with a concerned look on his pretty face, peering over the side of the bed with wide eyes and rubbing at his neck. The trickster coughs, wincing when he swallows and rasping out _ “I’m fine, seriously!” _

He genuinely seems to be, or to think he is, anyway. Tae Joon, on the other hand, is anything but fine.

He is decidedly not-fine, because once his eyes have adjusted to the light, he sees the ring of huge, deep, purpling bruises that have formed around his boyfriend’s lovely neck. 

_ Fuck. _

Bruises that _ he _ put there.

_ No. No no no no no. Ssibal. Fuck! _

Elliott reaches a hand out to him but he recoils, and before he knows it, he’s back on his feet and back in his clothes and backing out of the room mumbling anything he can think of to get back to the dropship, to escape and keep himself from hurting the person he loves ever again.

_ Oh, Elliott. Forgive me. _

\-----

**4:16AM Elliott:** Baby, please come back.  
**4:17AM Elliott:** I know you didn’t mean to. I’ve had dreams like that too, okay? It’s not a big deal, the ship will heal it! I’m fine!

Elliott hasn’t been sleeping on the dropship, though, and the bruises stay there until the following Monday, when they disappear altogether during a match after Lifeline’s drone has healed him. When the bruises are gone, Elliott almost wishes they weren’t. Even if they hurt like hell, they were the only remaining evidence that Hyeon had ever touched him. Then they were gone, just like Hyeon.

After four days, Elliott comes back to their--back to _ his _ room on the...the ship-that-isn’t-the-dropship, where he discovers a bag of blood lying on his bed. There’s no note, but he can smell whose it is before he’s even close enough to scoop it up off his pillow.

He sobs as he sucks down every last drop, feeling like a fucking _ monster. _

When he’s finished, he freezes, because there’s another person in his room. But he relaxes when he realizes it’s only the shy version of himself, not the one that wants to eat him.

The sweet, timid decoy flickers like a fluorescent light, blinking in and out of existence a few times.

Elliott furrows his brow, smacking the holoemitter that’s sewn into his suit. After a moment, the holographic projection stabilizes.

\------

By day five, he’s starting to get pissed the fuck off. They’ve met thrice in the ring now, on opposing teams all three times, and every single time Hyeon has gone out of his way to avoid Elliott. Somehow the fact that he won’t even _ fight _ him is the most insulting part of it all. 

\-----

By day seven he’s desperate.

“What’re you--_ oh!” _ the shy little decoy yelps as Elliott shoves it down onto the mattress, following immediately after it and tugging off its holosuit.

It’s wrong on so many levels he’s beginning to lose count. 

Not the decoy-fucking, of course. That’s just business as usual. Once he’s buried in that delicious heat, he can’t bring himself to care that literally fucking himself is maybe a little bit weird, and possibly unhealthy. No, what’s wrong is what he thinks about as he fucks it.

_ “Mnnnnngh…” _ his twin moans beneath him, hips rising to meet each of Elliott’s increasingly-desperate thrusts. “Oh _ Daddy…” _

_ “Ssssh,” _ he scolds, slipping two fingers between the decoy’s pretty lips and stroking over its tongue.

When he closes his eyes and holds his breath and doesn’t listen to its voice, he can almost pretend it’s Hyeon he’s fucking instead of himself. He hisses when he brushes up against a spot that makes his decoy’s ass constrict around his cock as it whimpers around his fingers.

It’s fucked. He’s aware. That’s not going to stop him.

But then he gets an even more terrible idea.

It’s silly, and gross, and it probably won’t even work, and it makes him feel _ disgusting. _ But there will be plenty of time for shame later. Right now, what he needs is release.

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling his fingers from between the decoy’s lips and slipping his palm over the whimpering hologram’s mouth instead.

When he closes his eyes, it’s not his decoy anymore. It’s the beautiful, terrifying monster from the cave. _ God, _ he’d wanted to fuck it. He certainly hadn’t been complaining at the time, but now, without Hyeon, he’s wishing he’d at least gotten _ one _ chance to return the fucked-up favor, to have it begging underneath him. He’s strong enough now that it (maybe) won’t kill the shit out of him, like, instantly. But most importantly, it looks like the man Elliott loves. The one who won’t even look at him anymore. He swallows, letting his memories of the stunning creature distract him from the gnawing ache in his chest.

_ Fuck, you’re so pretty... _

Maybe if he’d played his cards right, it would have really let him take his time, let him explore every inch of that pretty purple skin with hands and teeth and tongue. If he was honest, it was kind of a shame that the creature and its gorgeous, fork-tongued mouth were locked away in another dimension.

The man beneath him whines softly against his hand. Elliott presses a kiss to the side of his decoy’s throat, pretending it’s the monster from the cave, and fucking into it so hard the headboard of the bed begins to slam loudly into the wall. But it doesn’t matter how much noise he’s making, because no one else is there to hear it.  
  
_ “Ugh, _ god--” Elliot gasps, remembering the dream he’d had about the cave creature, the dream where it was kneeling at his feet and sucking him off with a submissive, satisfied look in its eyes, straining to taste him as he came all over that beautiful face. 

“Fuck, I would _ ruin _ you,” he groans.

His decoy’s needy little cry is muffled by his hand.

** _Oh, Elliott...I would let you…_ **

Elliott freezes. He hasn’t heard the creature from the cave speak to him in so long, he’d almost forgotten it was there.

But it _ IS _ there, and it is evidently _ watching him fuck himself. _

“Please,” Elliott gasps, burying his face in the spot where the decoy’s shoulder meets the side of its throat as he buries his cock in its ass. “Please let me...”

_ Please let me have you back. _

There’s still a dull ache in the gaping hole where his heart would be if it hadn’t been ripped out recently.

_ Please let me love you, Hyeon. _

The creature doesn’t comment on that particular thought, and Elliott is glad, because he hadn’t meant to think it. But a few moments later, his mind’s eye is flooded with images -- those _ stupid fucking pants _ shoved halfway down the creature’s thighs, exposing that pretty, purple skin. A hand half-covered in synthetic skin, slick with spit, fingers wrapping around the monster’s cock. It’s thick and leaking and Elliott is instantly _ desperate _ to have it in his mouth. But he’s not going to say that. Not right now.

“I’d make you fucking _ beg _ for it,” he hisses, thrusting deep enough that the decoy’s back arches up off the bed, eyes squeezing shut as it moans against his palm. “I’d make you get on your knees before I’d even _ think _ about touching you.”

The beast groans inside his head, thrusting up into its hand with each downward stroke.

** _Oh god, please, _ ** it gasps inside his head. ** _Anything you want, Elliott. Let me show you how sorry I am for what I did to you...what I’ve done to your friends._ **

“Fuck,” Elliott groans, too burned up by desire to really think about the fact that he has no idea what the fuck the vampire is talking about.

_ “Ah! Mnnngh!” _ the decoy sobs into his hand, writhing beneath him.

“Well, right now I want you on your knees, slut,” Elliott sneers, spurned on by the lewd sound of slapping skin that bounces off the walls of his ship with each desperate thrust. “But I’ll settle for watching you cum, I guess.”  
  


**_So close, don’t stop, fuck--nghhh, you’re so beautiful..._ **

His decoy whines, desperately trying to get some friction on its cock as Elliott fucks it ruthlessly. He doesn’t resist the urge to let the hand over its mouth move to wrap around its throat instead, and it clenches tightly around his cock when he does.

“Daddy, please!”

** _Jebal, Elliott. Fuck..._ **

Elliott groans, cockhead brushing up against a spot that makes his decoy’s eyes roll back into its head.

  
  
“Ohgodohplease,” the shy little hologram gasps breathlessly. “P-Please let me cum.”

_ “No,” _ Elliott growls against its shoulder, fucking it harder. 

The decoy wails something unintelligible.

** _Elliott, god, I’m going to--_**

  
  
“Ah! D-D-Daddy, I c-can’t--” his decoy moans, then it’s tightening up around him and cumming all over its stomach with a desperate cry.

** _Fuck!_ **

Elliott watches the vampire do the same a moment later, cock twitching in its hand as it spills over those long, nimble fingers. He whines when he remembers how fucking _ good _ it felt to have that synthetic skin wrapped around _ him, _ and he can’t resist wrapping his own hand around his decoy’s oversensitive cock.

The poor creature lets out a piteous cry, and it feels like every muscle in its body is currently clamping down on his dick when it clenches around him, squirming as its cock twitches in Elliott’s hand.

“Yes,” Elliott shudders, grunting softly with each needy thrust. _ “Fuck _ yes.”

Then the poor thing’s back is arching as it’s forced into a second orgasm, tears slipping down its cheeks as a little more cum dribbles out of its cock.

The noises coming out of the Elliott beneath him are utterly pathetic, and when he thinks about pulling those same noises from the vampire’s lips, he’s suddenly shoved over the edge with no warning.

“Shit! Oh _ fuck,” _ Elliott groans, and then he’s blown apart, shattered into a thousand tiny pieces like he’s recently swallowed a frag grenade.

The sound that comes out of him as he cums is almost inhuman, and when he’s finished, the decoy isn’t the only one crying. He collapses onto its chest, both of them trembling.

“I’m s-sorry, Daddy,” the poor thing gasps out. “I didn’t mean to cum! I couldn’t help it, I--you--”

_ “Shhhh,” _ Elliott sighs against the scars on its throat. “Don’t be sorry. _ I’m _ sorry…”

_ I’m a fucking monster. Disgusting. _

He rolls off the sweet little creature, who whimpers when it feels his seed beginning to leak out of it. He feels it snuggle up behind him, pressing a soft little kiss to his shoulder, just above his new tattoo.

He closes his eyes, praying sleep takes him soon.

** _I’m sorry too, Elliott._ **

\------

When he wakes, every muscle in his body tenses up, because he can tell from the way the decoy behind him grinds its cock against his ass -- it isn’t the sweet, harmless, shy one lying next to him anymore.

Elliott shudders when he feels its tongue against his throat, followed by its razor-sharp teeth.

“Oh darling, it’s been so _ terribly _ long,” it sneers, grazing his throat with the edge of a fang. “I’ve missed you _ so _ much more than you can possibly imagine…”

Then it buries those vicious teeth in the side of Elliott’s neck.

\-----

“Hey, uh, I...you probably don’t wanna talk to me,” Renee says, half sure she’s only talking to herself. It’s still cold enough outside the vampire’s door that she can see her breath. “So I’m just gonna...leave this here.”

She deposits the blood bag on the floor of the cave, sitting it near the red pillar candle, on top of the book she’s leaving for him. 

_Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly._

Inside, she’s scrawled a note:

_ You’re not the monster. What’s on the outside doesn’t make you any less human on the inside. Please let me help you. I’m sorry I fucked up. _

_ -R _

When there’s no reply from within the hidden room, she sighs, and turns to leave. If she doesn’t leave now, she knows she’ll end up thinking better of it, end up shredding the note and taking the novel back to her home dimension before he can read the book or the apology.

When she’s back in her own dimension, she’s furious. When she’s knocking on Nox’s door in the dead of night once a week to get drained, she’s furious. When the needle pierces her skin, she’s furious. When she stuffs the bag of her blood into the purple backpack, she’s furious. She’s most furious when she thinks about the fact that she’s now forced to choose between repeating this unpleasant ritual every week for the rest of ever, or letting him starve. And she’s _ not _ letting him starve, no matter how much his self-destructive ass might want her to do just that. She’s not letting him turn back into a ravenous, feral, monstrous thing, she’s not letting him have the ammo to say, “See? I hurt people! I’m a monster! I told you so!” 

But she’s also not going back to stealing from the med bay. Never, ever again. Not after what happened to Park. Even though it didn’t make any damn sense.

Renee’s not even sure why she bothers, except that the only interaction she gets with him now is returning to the cave to find the book and the bag of her blood gone, and a trail of red splatters on the floor leading back to his bedroom. He still won’t show himself.

When she’s back in her own bedroom, it makes her want to fucking scream.

But somehow, each time she finally forces herself to stand outside the entrance to his lair, all that fury evaporates. When it’s gone, there’s nothing left to feel but guilt. The part of her that wants to yell _ “Get out here and face me, you fucking jerk! Do you know how much shit I have to go through to do this?” _ just disappears, and all that’s left is the part of her that wants to cry, wants to beg him not to do this.

And that’s usually about when she decides to head back through her portal, because that’s usually when the tears come.

Tonight is no different.

\----

**3:39AM Renee:** Hey, u awake?

**3:40AM Hyeon:** Almost always.

**3:40AM Renee:** LOL, same. 

**3:41AM Renee:** I’m in the kitchen if you want some company. Specifically, the company of an alcoholic beverage. Could I interest you in a nightcap?

**3:41AM Hyeon:** Be there in a sec.

_ Quick question, Renee. Just what the _ ** _fuck _ ** _ do you think you’re doing? _

_ Exactly what Dr. Reid said I need to do. I’m ‘expanding my social horizons,’ so you can kiss my ass. Also, I believe I told you to shut the fuck up, Brain. _

It takes a few beers for conversation to flow a little less awkwardly (and for her brain to shut up), but once it does, she finally gains the courage to ask. They’re both buzzed enough he might actually give her an honest answer.

“So, um, I--I know it’s none of my business but, like, are you and Elliott...okay? I’m not trying to be a dick here, but both of you have been looking like kicked puppies lately and I’m, um, starting to get a little worried.” She looks at the floor, the ceiling of the little kitchenette, the counter -- anything but his face.

Because what she really wants to know is _ are you mad at me? Did you tell Elliott what you caught me doing with that decoy? Is he mad at me about...what happened in the ring? _

“I am not sure,” Park replies, looking so goddamn sad it reminds her of the vampire, and almost makes her want to cry. He sighs. “I am not the kind of person your friend should waste his time on.”

“Whoa, whoa, Elliott’s _ ‘my friend’ _ now? Shit, you guys didn’t--did you break up?” It slips out of her mouth before she can stop it, because she’s about two more beers away from drunk, and because she’s a fucking idiot.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Fuck,” he says miserably, staring at the floor with a kind of dejected hopelessness. It makes her heart ache a little. 

“Well, hey,” she stammers, trying to sound less idiotic and failing fantastically. “I don’t know the details, but I do know that you’re--you’re being too hard on yourself, seriously. You’re a good guy, Hyeon.”

He scoffs, like he hates the sound of his own name.

“Hey, I mean it. You’re exactly what Elliott needs, dude. He loves the shit out of you. Don’t go fucking breaking his heart just because you hate yourself,” she says, before she can stop herself. 

“You make him happy,” she continues, because she hasn’t already said enough stupid shit. “You balance his crazy ass out. And you--you’re, y’know, not, uh, hard to look at.”

_ Oh my fucking god. You idiot. STOP TALKING. _

Renee vaguely wonders if this is what it’s like to be Elliott. To have no verbal filter, thoughts snapping from brain to tongue in a heartbeat and spilling out of her mouth before she’s even considered their impact.

The way he’s looking at her now is familiar. Almost like it hurts. How the version of him in the cave looks at her when she asks if he’s hungry.

But then he smirks, just the tiniest bit, and says, “You’re not hard to look at either, Renee,” and she knows_ that _ look too, because she’s also seen it on the vampire, usually in the moment just before he sinks his fangs into her thigh.

She’s quite suddenly aware that she is _ right _ up in his space, standing far too fucking close to him just like she was that day they won the Winter Express match, when he helped her up and didn’t let go of her hand for a moment. Except this time, she’s not backing away. This time she’s taking another step forward and placing a hand on his chest. And when he doesn’t look at her like she’s lost her mind, even though she clearly has, she just can’t stop herself.

She rolls up onto her toes a little and leans in close to that beautiful face and then their mouths are pressed together and his hands are on her waist and _ fuck, _ he moans when she slips her tongue past those pretty pink lips and into his mouth, where it tangles with his own in a kiss that’s more desperation and loneliness than anything else. 

_ Fuck, is that a tongue ring?! _

\-----

_ You’re dreaming, Park. You have to be. There’s no fucking way this is actually happe-- _

His thoughts are interrupted when her tongue slips into his mouth, and _ fuck, this isn’t a dream, _because he can feel every nerve in his body light up like a fucking thermite grenade. He can’t help but moan into her mouth and when he does she all but tackles him, shoving him back against the kitchen counter and kissing him harder, sliding her fingers through his hair and gripping it like she doesn’t want to let go.

Park is definitely not complaining.

A moment later she’s the one moaning, though, when her tongue meets the little steel barbell that’s pierced through his.

_ Fuck, princess, _ he thinks, cock throbbing. _ I will put this tongue wherever you want it. Just say the word, I’m yours. _

“Fuck, Hyeon,” she gasps against his lips. _ “Please.” _

_ Oh no. She said the fucking word. _

\--

Of all the ways he expected his night to end, it wasn’t like this -- with him holo-cuffed to the bed of the most beautiful girl on the planet, nay, universe -- and her mouth on his neck.

Park can barely keep quiet, and it’s fucking embarassing, because she’s barely even touched him, but he’s been hard enough to fuck her into the next dimension since the second he first felt her tongue slip into his mouth.

She pulls back from his neck for a moment and gives him a concerned look, and at first he isn’t sure why. Then he realizes she’s looking at the scars. She can see them now -- all of them -- see the way they tear viciously across his skin in angry red streaks, marking him from collarbone to bicep. The dermal regenerator in the med bay had done its best, but it wasn’t magic, and the remaining scars were there to stay. 

She traces over them with soft, gentle fingers, and then she’s tracing over them with even softer lips and it makes his heart ache terribly because it’s so similar to similar to the way Elliott does it, but he can’t think about that, not right now, because the only aching he can focus on right now is the ache that’s growing between his thighs and threatening to consume him entirely. She just feels and looks and tastes so god damned _ good _ he’s sure he’s going to burst into flames before she even gets his pants off.

But then, without warning, she’s leaning over and snatching something small off the table next to her bed, and suddenly the holo-cuffs have disappeared and his hands are free. The moment they are, he fills them with every part of her he can touch, and he’s got her pinned beneath him faster than either of them can think. But she’s not stopping him, which shouldn’t be enough for him, and it isn’t, but fuck, it almost is. Because he’s a monster.

She rolls her hips up, grinding her cunt against his thigh through those sinful little shorts she sleeps in and _ fuck, _ he wants to absolutely _ devour _ her but he’s still not sure if he can, becau--

“Hyeon, I--I--_ nnghhh. _ Fuck, please.”

_ Fuck it, _ says the selfish, greedy, fucking _ hungry _ part of him.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he growls in her ear. Then he’s kissing down her bare throat and she’s sighing sweetly and arching her back to give him room to get her bra unhooked.

_ “Yeppeumnida, _fuck,” he groans, gazing down at her and teasing one of her nipples, toying with the little metal ring pierced through it. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”

Then his mouth is on her chest and she’s gasping out his name and even though it isn’t really his, it’s _ fucking close enough _ and he needs it, needs this, more than words can possibly describe.

His mouth travels downward, lips ghosting over her ribcage, synthetic jaw grazing her belly, teeth dragging over a hipbone. When he reaches the elastic band of those _ tiny, stupid fucking shorts _ he feels his cock throb again, and he pauses, gazes up at her because he needs to be _ sure _ and he is quickly losing the ability to control himself.

Those pretty blue eyes are closed, but they open when she feels him stop moving, and she whines with frustration.

“God, please. _ Please _ don’t pussy out now, Park. Fuck, I’m gonna kill you if you do. Like, permanently kill you.”

He laughs, giving her a devious grin, and then he’s ripping those sexy little shorts off right along with her panties and dragging his tongue up the inside of her thigh. She shudders beneath him, hands instantly coming up to grip his hair again as she tries to grind her hips upward. He doesn’t let her, though, chuckling darkly against the junction of her thigh and cunt when she whimpers out a needy little cry of desperation. She’s fucking _ soaking, _ too, he realizes, and then he can’t hold back anymore. He buries his face between her pale thighs and licks her from bottom to top, groaning at the absolutely _ wrecked _ noise she makes when he sucks her clit between his lips.

_ Oh, gongjunim, this is just the beginning. You’re going to cum for me so many times tonight. _

Then he’s activating his tongue ring through his neural link and curling two metal-tipped fingers into her with zero warning. She almost fucking _ screams, _ he has to work to keep her hips pinned down to the bed, but she’s not trying to get away -- she’s trying to fuck herself on his fingers, trying to grind up against his tongue, and the begging hasn’t stopped for even a second since he got his mouth on her.

“Hyeon, oh my god, _ please,” _ she gasps when his fingers graze a spot that makes her back arch.

_ “Hmmmm?” _ he hums against her, still teasing her clit with his tongue ring.

“Y-your tongue is--oh my fucking _ god, _ shit!”

He chuckles softly, squeezing a third finger into her and groaning at the way she tenses up beneath him, around him.

_ Gods, she is so fucking perfect. _

“Oh fuck, fuck, _ please,” _ she sobs, tightening her grip in his hair. “I’m so close, _ fuck--” _

_ Anything you want, princess. _

_ “Nnnnngh, _ Hyeon--”

_ That’s right, beautiful. Cum all over my face. _

“Ah--_ FUCK!” _ is all she manages, and then she’s tensing up beneath him again, cunt clenching rhythmically around his fingers as she whimpers out a choked sort of moan and cums so hard there’s a puddle under them on the bed when he finally pulls his mouth away.

_ Fuck me. Look at you. _

_ No, really. Please fuck me. _

He curls his fingers again, tongue still vibrating against her clit. It takes all his self-control not to hold her down until he’s pulled another three or four orgasms out of her, but he doesn’t know her like he knows Elliott. Doesn’t know if she wants it. Sighing, he tears his mouth away from her delicious flesh and pulls his fingers from her, slipping them into his mouth.

She gasps softly when he pulls his fingers out of her, and then she’s flushing head to toe as she watches him suck them clean. He can’t help but grin -- she’s had him wrapped around her finger for so long, he’s more than happy to return the favor.

And then, by some miraculous twist of luck and fate and _ holy fuck, are you serious? _Renee meets his gaze and breathes out three magical, wonderful words:

_ “Please _ fuck me.”

_ You don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart. _

\--

“Are you sure this is--_ nghhhh _\--what you want?” he gasps out, thrusting his hips forward to grind his dick against her slickness, just barely able to keep himself from absolutely losing his fucking mind, from plunging into her cunt and fucking her until she can’t walk right.

_ You feel so good, please, I need to feel that sweet cunt around my-- _

_ “Yes, _ Park, Jesus _ fuck, _ will you _ please _ st-stop teasing? F-fuck, _ mnnngh…” _

_ Oh god. Yes. Fuck yes. _

Then he’s pulling back, sinking into her cunt with one steady forward stroke, and both of them cry out when he’s fully sheathed in its tight embrace.

“God, Renee…”

“Hyeon, _ please,” _ she urges, voice more ragged and desperate than he’s ever had the pleasure of hearing it before. “Please, I need you to _ move.” _

He’s not trying to tease, but he doesn’t want to hurt her and he can feel the wicked, greedy part of him coiling in his belly. He knows this is the last stop before he completely loses control.

“Anything you want,_ gongjunim,” _ he whispers against the delicate skin of her throat. Then he’s pulling out nearly all the way and jerking his hips forward so hard that she’s pushed a little further up the mattress beneath them, gasping his name -- well, sort-of-his-name... _ whatever, it’s close enough _ \-- and clenching up around him so tightly he knows he’s not going to last very long. Which is a shame, because she sounds and tastes and feels like _ heaven. _

She all but wails when he slips a hand between them, dragging two metallic fingertips over her swollen clit. Her sweet cunt is stretched around him so tightly he’s sure it’s going to drive him mad, but _ fuck, _ it’ll have been worth it. Seeing her like this, with her lips parted and those beautiful eyes occasionally whiting out like she’s about to enter the Void -- it’s almost too much. He’s trying to be careful with her, but the way she keeps lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts is making that very difficult.

“Harder, please,” she sighs against his throat.

“Fuck,” he groans, and then he can’t hold back anymore.

Tae Joon pounds into her, fingers slipping back and forth over her clit as her cunt starts to pulse around him. He feels every muscle in her body tense up under him, her fingernails digging into his flesh and leaving angry red streaks down his back in their wake. He groans at the sweet pain, fucking her harder, and what comes out of her mouth as she cums on his cock is almost enough to stop his heart for good.

“Oh god, oh god--Tae Joon! _ Mmnnngh!” _

_ What the _ ** _FUCK?_ **

But his brain doesn’t really get a chance to process it, because the moment he hears his name on her lips -- his _ real _ name, the first time he’s heard it said like that in, well, _ ever _ \-- he’s cumming, spending into her plush cunt with a ragged “Oh, _ fuck.” _

When he finally catches his breath, he pulls back to look at her. Her eyes are wide, a hand clapped over her gasping mouth.

_ Fuck. She knows. _

He’s frozen, a piercing bolt of terror shooting straight through his heart. But then something odd occurs to him, and it makes him relax just the tiniest bit.

_ She knows. _

_ She knows, and she fucked me anyway... _

\-----

When she returns to the cave to drop off the vampire’s lunch, she doesn’t linger. There are other things to worry about. Like getting some practice in before the new season, because this new ‘Forge’ guy is starting to piss her the fuck off, and she wants to be in prime murdering condition when the egotistical fuck finally meets her in the ring.

She also doesn’t want to think about the night before.

_ You are SUCH a fucking idiot. ‘Oh, don’t mind me, just got you mixed up with the other hot Korean guy I want to sink my teeth into.’ Good one, genius. _

It was pretty obvious Park hadn’t bought her excuse. Accidentally letting slip the wrong name was one thing, but that name also being obviously Korean was too big of a coincidence, and (despite some of his behavior) he wasn’t an idiot. He loved solving puzzles, and he was going to solve hers, if she wasn’t careful, just like he was going to figure out what was wrong with the lights on the dropship. Once he sunk his teeth into something, his mind didn’t let go. He always finished the job, in the ring and outside of it. The missing blood bag controversy was finally dying down, and the last thing she wanted was to arouse Hyeon’s suspicion again.

She preferred arousing the other parts of him, anyway.

But despite her initial assessment, Park wasn’t an idiot. He may not have known the name she moaned belonged to the vampire, but it was pretty clear he could tell it didn’t belong to him. From the look on his face as she mumbled a bullshit excuse about him ‘looking like one of her other friends,’ she could tell he wasn’t buying it. If he figured her out, she was fucked.

And not in the way she’d been fucked the night before.

_ God, that was so hot. Of course you fucked it up, Renee. Of fucking course you did. _

It really couldn’t have ended any worse than it did. It was bad enough she’d waited to make her move until he and Elliott had hit a rough patch. Calling him the wrong name was, as Anita sometimes liked to say, _ “just the shit-icing on the shit-cake.” _

_ Jesus Christ, Renee. You are such a fucking asshole. _

She swallowed the lump of guilt that began growing in her throat when she caught sight of the silver friendship bracelet that still hung from her wrist.

_ Yeah, BFF of the fucking year right here. _

Sighing deeply, she plopped the blood bag down next to the candle, immediately turning on her heel to leave. Lingering only made it hurt more, especially knowing he’d taken the book and seen her note and drank her blood and _ still _ wouldn’t talk to her.

Just as she reached the mouth of the cave, something yanked her back into it, pulling her tightly against something firm. It didn’t let go.

She froze, remembering the strange dream she’d had about the robot. But when she looked down, the hands that were clasped around her middle were vaguely purple, and half-covered in synthetic skin. She felt silly for even thinking it might have been someone else. From what she could tell, the island was deserted except for the vampire and the Shadows.

“Are you trying to make me _ jealous, _ Renee?” Tae Joon growled into the back of her neck, breathing her in. 

_ Uh. I dunno. Is it working? _

\----

“Are you trying to make me jealous, Elliott?”

Elliott’s eyes go wide. They’re the first words Hyeon has said to him in two weeks, and they don’t make any god damn sense. Elliott barely stops himself from blurting out, _ I dunno. Is it working? _

They’re in the ring, and the brilliant hacker has apparently regained the will to wreck his ass (and not in the fun way) -- he’s pinning Elliott to frozen ground near the Epicenter with those synthetic palms wrapped around his throat. But he’s not squeezing half as hard as he’d been that night in his sleep, and he’s only doing it in the first place because it’s early in the match, and they’re both unarmed. Suddenly Elliott’s the one without the will to fight, because it feels like it’s been _ forever _ since Hyeon touched him, and he’s missed it so much, he doesn’t care if it’s only happening because they’re in the ring. 

It doesn’t even hurt, except for where those hands are unknowingly pressing into the fresh puncture wounds in his throat, but part of him almost wishes it _ did _ hurt. He wouldn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s about to be eliminated, either, because for some fucking reason he ended up in a solo squad while everyone else got matched up in a traditional trio. 

There have been lots of odd technical difficulties in the arena lately. Even the online skin store was experiencing issues, and the Syndicate _ never _seemed to waste time fixing shit when it came to their 1800AC skins. 

Elliott swallows nervously, unsure why Hyeon looks so fucking _ mad. _ He hasn’t been able to even _ think _ about fucking anyone else. Well, except himself, _ obviously, _ and the vampire... _ that _ he had definitely thought about. Loudly. Just the one time, though, and he’s certain there’s no way Hyeon could possibly know about either of those encounters.

“J-Jealous? Uh, w-what do you mean?”

He gazes up at his…_ ”boyfriend” _ doesn’t feel right, but _ “ex” _ makes his heart (or the hole where it used to be) ache so badly it almost makes him nauseous. When he looks up at Hyeon’s painfully-beautiful face, he suddenly realizes what’s happened.

Hyeon sees the bitemark, and it is undeniably a new one. There’s no hiding it. 

_ Fuck. _

Hyeon tilts Elliott’s chin to the side, running his metallic fingertips over the fresh wound. For a moment, he looks exactly like he had the night he lured Elliott to the Repulsor tower, when he crouched over Elliott and appraised his wound with a terribly concerned look on his face. That had been the first moment Elliott had even dared to think Hyeon might find him attractive. Something about the tenderness in even the simplest of touches -- helping Elliott up when he’s been downed, seizing his arm and throwing them both off the side of an exploding runaway train, tilting his chin to inspect that gnarly bite -- there’s always such a gentleness to it. Elliott realizes this is the first time Hyeon’s touched him in weeks, and can’t help the whine that tumbles from his lips when the man pulls his hand away. 

That concerned look is gone from the hacker’s pretty face almost instantly, and then Hyeon appears to be vibrating with anger. His chest is heaving, and when he speaks, the forced calmness in his voice makes Elliott genuinely fear him a little bit.

“Who the _ fuck _ is doing this to you, Elliott?” Hyeon all but seethes, shaking with barely-restrained rage. He follows it up with something Elliott can’t understand, but the tone in which he speaks the Korean words is harsh and scary, like nothing Elliott has ever heard him say before.

Suddenly, Elliott’s angry, too. He’s so angry he feels like he might burst into flames. He is just as angry as Hyeon looks, and it must have taken the hacker by surprise, because in a split second Elliott’s got him on his back, pinning him to the floor with every last ounce of that fearsome, inhuman strength. 

Elliott generally tries to avoid ending up in melee situations for this exact reason. The _ insane _advantage he has over everyone else in hand-to-hand combat kind of feels like cheating.

Today he’s making an exception.

His hands are around that pretty synthetic throat in a flash, and after a few moments of struggling, Hyeon just fucking gives up, goes limp, and glares up at Elliott, still waiting for an answer.

“Why the fuck would that be any of your business?” Elliott snaps. “Not like you gave a shit ‘til like, ten seconds ago.”

And just like that, all the anger in that beautiful face is gone. Hyeon suddenly looks like he’s going to cry, then his eyes fall shut and he just...deflates, as though Elliott’s words took the air right out of his lungs.

“Elliott…” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath Elliott’s fingers.

“Don’t ‘Elliott’ me!” Elliott hisses, tightening his grip around that unfairly-pretty throat. “You broke my fucking heart, you asshole. You don’t get to--get to--” his voice cracks, and he has to take a deep breath to keep the tears from falling. “You don’t get to pretend to give a shit now.”

Some of that anger is back in Hyeon’s eyes, and he struggles for enough air to grit out, “I’m not the one who’s already moved on in--it’s been, what, ten days?”

“Fuck you,” Elliott spits back. “Fuck you I _ ‘moved on,’ _ you left me! You--you think if I’m not begging you to let me suck you off, I moved on? You think I moved on because I’m not crying to Gibby about it and begging you to take me back?” He lets out a bitter, derisive laugh. “Fuck you, you don’t get to see me cry. What the fuck are you talking about, ‘ten days’? Try fifteen. It’s been _ fifteen fucking days _ since you said one god damned word to me, Hyeon. _ Fifteen. _ And I have felt every last f-fucking second of it, and all of them hurt. So _ fuck you. _ Fuck you for acting like you give a shit now. Fuck you for m-making me think--think we were--”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Elliott groans, releasing Tae Joon’s throat and rolling off of him. He jumps to his feet, blinking away tears and hoping Hyeon doesn’t see him quickly wipe away the one that slips down his cheek.

His heart is racing, and Hyeon’s looking at him with tears in his eyes, too. But Elliott’s still angry, so angry that when the fluorescent lights above them begin to flicker, it almost feels like the room is sensing his anger.

“You didn’t even have the decency to dump me,” Elliott says softly, voice unsteady with unspent emotion and unsaid words. After a steadying breath, he continues. 

“If you don’t want me, then leave me the _ fuck _ alone.”

Then he disappears into his holographic camouflage before he can do something stupid, like kiss him, or beg him to come back, or say what he’s actually thinking.

_ If you don’t want me, I understand. Just please, please don’t leave me alone. _

_ Especially with myself. _

\----

“Excuse me?” Renee snaps. “Am I trying to--what?”

_ I’m just trying to feed you, you stubborn fucking dickbag. _

“Really, Renee,” the vampire hisses into her ear. “Pretending already?”

“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” She was losing patience like she’d lose blood after tangling with those teeth. If he’d ever let her again.

The vampire just sort of...growls. 

_ Oooooh soooo scary. I’m not falling for that ‘I’m-so-dangerous’ bullshit today, we both know you’re well-fed. You just need to get laid. _

“You must be trying to make me lose my mind, coming in here with that blood,” he continues. “Coming in here with his fucking _ scent _ all over you. _ Inside _ you. Trying to make me lose control.”

_ Oh. _

_ Fuck. _

_ You didn’t mention you have super-smell, you jerk. Fuck me sideways with a rusty peacekeeper, you’re worse than Park sometimes, I swear _.

“First I have to hear you with him, fucking _ see _ you with him, because listening to him fuck Elliott just isn’t enough torture, apparently,” the creature seethes, breath puffing against the side of her throat. Renee shudders. She has _ never _ heard him talk like this, except perhaps the first night they met, when he was trying to scare her shitless because he thought she was his crazy ex. 

The scaring shitless part -- it’s...kind of working. But she’s not going to let it show. Scaring her is what he wants and she’s not going to let him see her flinch. 

_ He’s never going to stop treating himself like a monster if somebody doesn’t show him how. _

And she _ knows _ he’s not going to hurt her -- shit, she knows it better than he does. But still...seeing him like this is a little scary.

Just scary enough to be hot.

_ Ugh... _

“Then you fucking come here with your fucking delicious blood, fucking leave it on my doorstep when I’m trying to fucking wean off the shit, and you’re--you’re covered in his scent and _ this,” _ he yanks her scarf down, exposing the bitemarks Hyeon left on her throat...which the dropship...didn’t heal…for some reason...

_ What the hell is going on with the ship this week? God dammit. That thing is such a piece of shit. _  
  


_“Ssibal…”_ the monster breathes, thumbing over the light bruises at her throat. _ “Gaesaekki. _ I am going to _ kill _him.”

“No you’re fucking not. You can’t even get to him from here! You don’t get to take this out on anyone but me. So fucking _ do something _ about it,” she snapped, without thinking. “I’m not above stabbing your stupid ass. Just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it’ll feel good, you dick.”

Before she could even react, her back was against the wall of the cave and Tae Joon was gripping her jaw so tightly it hurt.

“You must _ stop _ this,” he growled, and the look in those eyes was almost feral. “Why? Why must you tempt me? Why do you want me to _ hurt _ you? Fuck, Renee…”

He released her face, burying his own into the corner of her neck and shoulder, groaning as he breathed her in.

“I’m not trying to fuck with you, I’m trying to _ help _ you,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “You’re not going to hurt me, you’ve had plenty of opportunities already, but you haven’t. And don’t even get me started on the tempting shit, how long do you think you could go with my mouth all over your crotch before you went nuts? I was already nuts when I got here!” She was yelling, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. Still, she attempted a steadying breath.

“Fuck, dude. I’m not--what happened with Hyeon was--is--it’s _ different,” _ she went on. “I mean, yeah, the fact that you’re like two different flavors of the same delicious candy bar doesn’t help, but fuck you, you were fucking me-- _ her _\--AND your Elliott back before...before all that shit happened...so don’t get all high and mighty, you’re the one who kicked me out of your life. Cut me some slack, we both know you copped a feel when you bit Elliott.”

_ I mean, surely. How could he not? Elliott’s got the cutest butt ever. _

_  
_ _  
_ _ Dammit, Brain. Will you please focus? _

  
  
“And that’s exactly why I’m trying not to do the same to _ you, _ Renee!” he’d pulled away from her, and he was yelling now, too.

“You are the most stubborn fucking man I’ve ever met in my life. It’s not...whatever happened last night isn’t--it’s not like it is with him and Elliott. I mean, I want to punch him most of the time. You might have that in common--whatever, the point is that...ugh, I don’t know…it’s just not like that...” she trailed off, lost for words.

_ Well said, you fucking idiot. _

_ Well what the fuck am I supposed to do, tell him the truth? _

“And this,” he murmured, suddenly not yelling at all, but stepping close to her again. “This is like what he has with your Elliott?”

Those shockingly-bright eyes are narrowed at her, sizing her up. Looking for proof that she’s lying.

“It could be,” she said softly, suddenly too scared to look him in the eye anymore. “If that’s...if that’s what you want.”

  
  
_ It’s what _ ** _ I _ ** _ want. _

“Is that what _ you _ want?” he asked, brow arched like he very much doubted it.

  
  
_ Fuck, dude. Don’t ask me that. _

_  
_ _  
_ _ Hey, mouth? Don’t answer that, ‘kay? _

_“Yes,_ you idiot!” her mouth answers anyway. “That is _all _I want! I just want to help you, like Hyeon helps Elliott. And I only..._fuck,_ dude, I don’t know! I’m only cool with him because he’s good to Elliott. And I only fucked him because I missed _you._ Because you weren’t speaking to me, you wouldn’t look at me, you wouldn’t even listen to me, you were just all, _“kkeojyeo!”_ and you made me leave and I knew if I didn’t _do_ something, your stupid ass would starve because I_ still_ haven’t un-fixed the repulsor and the Shadows barely come in here, you’d just go all feral again and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for fucking him. I was lonely, I was--I just missed you, okay? Fuck, I missed you, and he looks like you, and--it’s the same reason you bit Elliott, okay? It just happened, I don’t know. It just did. But I’m not letting you go back to starving just because_ I _fucked up, and--”

She’s cut off, _ thank god, _ when his mouth crashes into hers, locking their lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle, and so far from the timid, soft, restrained kisses she’s gotten from him ever since their first one that it takes her breath away. His tongue is in her mouth and a fang has cut her bottom lip again but he just sucks it between his own to tongue the blood that leaks from the tiny puncture.

_ Fuck yesssssss. _

_ Do not fuck this up, Renee. _

She wants to _ beg _ him to fuck her-- _ shit, he doesn’t even have to do that, just let me touch him, god, please. Please please please just let me-- _

He pulls away suddenly, pinning her jaw in that iron grip of his again, so she can’t lean forward and follow his retreating mouth with her own.

_ No! No, please-- _

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is,” he asks, eyes darkening as the brilliant blue is eclipsed by wide-blown pupils. “How many different ways I could kill you in this very moment? How _ easy _ it would be to snap this pretty neck? Or do to it what I did to your--to this “Hyeon” fellow? How hard it is for me to resist--to resist--” he groans, then mutters something she can’t understand, apparently unwilling to finish the sentence in English.

_ Dammit. I need to start taking lessons or something. This is bullshit. _

“Will you cut that shit out? If you’re going to fucking say something, say it so I can understand you. Or at least translate once in a while, like when you’re saying it _ to me,” _ she snapped, beginning to get frustrated again. “I hate it when you do that while we’re _ arguing _ or you’re answering a question, it’s a bitch move and you know it. It’s a total cop-out. Say what the fuck you mean, Tae Joon. Say it so I can understand.”

“I said,” he begins, his voice ragged, restrained. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist thinking about you when I--when I, er--”

He stops himself again, shaking his head and rubbing at the eye with the optical implant. His cheeks have gone that lovely violet shade again, and suddenly Renee knows exactly what he was about to say.

“Oh boo-fucking-hoo, you think about me while you jerk off. Join the fucking club,” she pauses when she sees how wide his eyes are. “What? I do the same thing. You think I don’t go home and think about you while I do a little self-exploration? After you’ve teased me with that _ fucking mouth _ all night, with that _ tongue? _ Shit, dude. I don’t know if you’re technically human, but I am. Do you know how hard it is to resist just, like, smashing your face into my pussy? Holy fuck, it’s a miracle I haven’t done it already.”

The vampire is gaping at her now, those pretty fangs exposed when his jaw drops.

She keeps talking, because the only thing worse than what’s just come out of her mouth is the awkward silence that followed it.

_ Yeah, this has to be what it’s like to be Elliott. No filter, even less common sense. _

“At least you--you should be glad you’re not calling other people by my name when you’re fucking them! Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?” she blurts out, angrier than she is embarrassed.

Those pretty, violet cheeks are now closer to magenta.

“You...you called him my name?” 

The creature looks highly skeptical, but there’s something else there, too: Hope. Desire. Hope and desire and...pride, maybe? A sprinkle of that insufferable smugness he shared with Park, perhaps.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, going rather pink in the face as well. “I did. Right when I--when he--” she groans, so embarrassed she can’t even say it, and wishing she could switch to speaking in a language that _ he _ didn’t understand, for once. “It was an awkward mess. Still is, if I’m being honest…”

“You were...thinking about me? While you--while he--”

_ “Yes, _ okay? That’s what I just fucking said!” she shouts angrily. “You were acting all weird because you think about me while you jerk off, so I was just saying it could be worse. I wasn’t trying to focus on that part. Stop rubbing it in!”

Tae Joon lets out a noise that doesn’t even sound human. Then his lips are back on hers, his left hand tangled in her hair to keep her from moving, his right hand tracing her collarbones before slipping down to squeeze her breast.

Renee gasps, but he swallows it down, moaning into her mouth when she rips her gloves off and presses her palm between his thighs, squeezing gently. His hips jerk into her grip automatically, and he actually shudders from the friction.

_ God, this poor guy’s probably had a longer dry spell than I did. Centuries. _

He pulls back from her mouth, gasping her name. But for once, he’s not gasping it in a tone that tells her _ “you need to stop.” _ No, the way he inhales sharply as he whines out her name makes her shudder because he’s _ not _ using that tone. Instead, he’s gasping her name in a voice that says _ “please, don’t stop,” _ and she is all too happy to fulfill his request. She releases him to move her hands to his belt, untucking his shirt before slipping her fingers up across his stomach.

He shudders, groans, then pulls away to free himself from his vest so she can get it and the shirt off. Renee decides she should help, because she needs it off _ now. _ There are far too many buttons on it, and she wants to expedite the vest’s removal by any means necessary.

“All these pockets, these damn buttons,” she grumbles, fingers fumbling in their eagerness to touch his skin again.

The vampire just laughs, giving her a mischievous look.

Once he’s shrugged out of the vest, she rips his shirt off and then, to her surprise, he’s scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his bed, where he deposits her with such sweet gentleness, it almost makes her sad. She reaches up, pulling him down on top of her to bring their lips together again, because she can’t get enough and it’s so _ good, _ he’s so good that she’s never, ever going to get enough of him.

His lips trail down her jaw, then beneath her ear, then he’s pulling back to rip her scarf away, giving his hungry mouth more room to explore. But doing so reveals the bruises, the little love bites and hickeys Hyeon had left on her the night before, and both of them freeze, both having temporarily forgotten about them.

Tae Joon growls, licks up the side of her throat as he rolls his hips forward, pressing his stiff cock right between her thighs.

_ Oh god, yes… _

She’d be embarrassed by the sound the simple motion forces out of her, but the need for more is so all-consuming, she can’t find it in herself to care.

_ I need to get those stupid pants off. _

Her hands slip down his chest, over the scars that are all her fault and back down to his belt, where she pauses.

Tae Joon removes his mouth from her throat, groaning.

“Do you...is it okay if I, uh…” 

She can’t quite bring herself to say what she’s thinking, which is _ god, please fuck me. _

The look on his face when she meets his gaze is enough to make her cry. He looks like he did the first night she fed him, when he’d stared at her with an expression halfway between barely-restrained lust and deep self-hatred, even deeper pain.

“Renee, I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in three hundred years,” the beautiful creature confesses, his voice so full of trepidation that it breaks her heart a little. “But I...I will _ hurt _ you. I don’t know if I can control myself. Fuck, you don’t know what it’s like, you smell _ so good. _ And gods help me, the way you _ taste…” _

He groans again, hips jerking forward and rutting up against her once more as his head drops to rest against her shoulder. “You don’t understand, I can’t stop myself, I--”

“So _ don’t,” _ she interrupted. “Stop trying to stop yourself. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to kill me or eat me or whatever the fuck you’re afraid of and you haven’t, so just stop. _ Let go.” _

He moans, hips jerking forward and not stopping, for once.

“Please let me touch you,” she gasps softly, tugging at his belt. “Please. We don’t have to fuck. You don’t have to touch me. Just let me--”

“I _ want _ to touch you, Renee!” he groaned, voice ragged with lust and three-hundred years-worth of hunger. “That’s the-- _ mnnnghhhfuck _\--that’s the problem!”

“Then _ do it, _for fuck’s sake,” she grits out, lifting her hips to meet his own.

_ “Jenjang,” _ he grunts, desperately grinding his cock against her cunt. 

Then, before she knows it, she’s been flipped on her belly, and he’s pulling her bodysuit’s zipper from where it starts at the back of her neck all the way down to the base of her spine. He peels the suit halfway off, exposing her chest and upper back, but the sleeves are still half-on and the tightness of the suit has trapped her arms against her sides.

“I can smell him all over you,” the creature growls, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the middle of her spine as he grinds his stiff cock against the curve of her ass.

Renee shudders, whimpering into the pillow because she’s still stuck on her belly with her arms tethered to her sides, and all she wants is to be able to feel his skin on hers.

Quite suddenly, her wish is granted. The beast pulls back, yanking her arms free before shucking her suit down her legs and flinging it across the room. Then he’s flipping her on her back once more and taking in her exposed form with a hungry sort of look on his face.

Clad in her bra and panties, she’s more or less just as exposed as she is in her swimwear, when she strips down to let him feed. But somehow, this feels different. Somehow she already feels more naked than she’s ever felt while wearing that swimsuit.

“God, you are so beautiful,” the vampire says almost reverently, sliding a half-synthetic hand up the side of her ribcage. 

That same hand slides beneath her to remove her bra, but it stops. He gazes into her eyes with a despairing, tortured sort of look on his face.

“Renee, are you sure?” he asks urgently, beginning to tremble a little bit, like it’s taking genuine effort to keep himself from tearing her apart.

_“Yes,_ Tae Joon,” she sighed, beginning to lose patience. “I’m sure. I want this. I want _you._ Please.”

The creature’s eyes fall shut as he exhales. A second later they’re open again, scanning every last inch of her as he unclasps her bra and tugs it away.

The sound that comes out of him as he takes in the sight of her exposed chest is more like the sound of a monster than that of a man, but it only serves to make the dampness between Renee’s thighs even more noticeable.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he breathes, thumbing at a nipple ring as his eyes drink her in. 

Then he lowers his mouth to her chest, closing his lips around the little steel bar pierced through her sensitive flesh and tonguing it as she whimpers beneath him. His mouth, she’s decided, is unnaturally warm, and the contrast between his always-chilled fingers and his hot lips on her skin is nearly enough to make her weep, make her beg him to put his fingers or his tongue or his cock inside her.

_ Preferably all three, hnnnng… _

She grinds up against his stiff cock again and he shudders, grunting as he ruts helplessly against her. Then, much to her frustration, he stops himself. But she can’t stay mad long, because then that delightfully soft, warm mouth is leaving a trail of wet kisses down her chest, her sternum, his tongue dipping into her navel, then lower, until it’s dipping beneath the elastic of her panties.

“Please,” she breathes, trembling with how desperately she wants it. “Please, I n-need it, oh god, I need it so bad…”

The beautiful man groans against the soaked fabric separating him from her cunt, and the vibrations of his voice makes her whimper and squirm.

“Please,” she urges again, unable to stop herself from grinding up against his mouth. “No more teasing, please.”

Those must be the magic words, because half a moment later he’s ripped her panties in half, tearing them from her body in his haste to bare her flesh.

_ “Ah! _” She gasps as the cool air of the cave hits the wetness between her thighs.

“Look at you,” the vampire murmurs, just barely brushing his thumb against her clit. “So wet for me.”

She whines, squirming, but his other arm is pinning her hips to the bed. She curses his unnatural strength as she struggles in his grasp, desperate for more.

_ Please, please, I’ve wanted you for so long… _

“Please, I’ll do anything,” she pleads, unable to care how pathetic she sounds. She’s never wanted something this badly. Or she can’t remember wanting anything this badly, at least.

“Fuck,” the creature between her thighs hisses, and then that hot, fang-filled mouth is upon her, tongue dragging up the center of her cunt.

_ “Agh! _ Yes!” she sobs, wishing he’d remove the forearm pinning her hips to the bed so she could grind her cunt against his mouth. “Fuck, Tae Joon-- _ nnnngh!” _

He’s holding her so firmly, her hips won’t move at all, which is probably for the best, because otherwise she’d be grinding up against his fangs, and that could be...bad. 

He chuckles between her thighs, and it rumbles like thunder, vibrating deliciously as he plunges his tongue inside her, groaning at the taste. Then he pulls back, licking a hot stripe from bottom to top before sucking her clit between his lips and battering it with that slick forked tongue.

_ “Ahhhnnngh, _ oh god--oh _ fuck,” _ she cries, grateful there’s no one around to hear her shameless moaning. “That f-feels so fucking---so fucking--oh my _ god!” _

_“Hmmmm,”_ he hums into her, making her shudder.

Then two thick fingers are pressing into her, breaching her entrance, stretching her cunt open as they search for the spot that will make her come undone.

“Fuck!”

He curls those fingers into her, pressing into that spot, and it makes her eyes roll back from the blinding pleasure.

  
  
“For somebody who hasn’t gotten any action for three hundred years, you’re pretty fucking good at this,” she gasps, stil trying to catch her breath. “Fuck.”

The creature pulls his mouth from her, pulling back to watch himself fuck her with his fingers.

“Does everyone in your dimension have a mouth as filthy as yours?” he asks her with a smirk, teasing her clit with the slick pad of his thumb..

She laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

His mouth returns to her cunt, that wicked tongue flicking over it and making her sob. She’s gripping his pretty (and impossibly-soft) hair so hard she fears it may be hurting him. But if it is, he doesn’t show it, he just continues holding her down with one arm while the hand of the other dances in unison with his tongue to bring her to the edge and push her over. 

His name is on her tongue when she cums, and thankfully, this time, it’s the right one.

She knows there’s a fresh bag of her blood waiting for him just outside his front door, but she can’t help asking. It only seems fair, after what he just did for her.

“Hey, are you hungry?”

Once those fangs are in her thigh, nothing else matters. Nothing matters but his mouth and his tongue and the dull throbbing of her pulse again his lips.

\------

Nothing matters. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing except fucking killing that beast once and for all. It has to die, it has to. Tae Joon doesn’t know how, but he’s going to murder it, that much is certain. He just needs to figure out how to talk Renee into helping him get there.

...And figure out how the hell she knows his name, and why she hasn’t yet hit the fucking ceiling over the crimes he’s been accused of. And if she’s planning to turn him in. 

He stands in the hall outside her room, feeling awkward when there’s only silence following his knock on her door.

_ Come on, Renee. Answer the damn door. _

_ “Jenjang!” _he curses under his breath, feeling like he’s going to explode if he has to go another second without his hands around the monster’s neck.

He’s just about to turn around and stalk back to his room, frustrated beyond words, when he hears a familiar crackling sound on the other side of the door. It’s faint, but unmistakable -- there’s an open portal in her bedroom.

Any other day, he wouldn’t have risked inciting her wrath, but this couldn’t wait. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, this was more important. This was about Elliott. She’d be pissed at him for breaking into her bedroom, and even more pissed at him for following her into the portal, of course, but she’d surely get over it as soon as she saw the state of Elliott’s neck. He just hoped the portal didn’t lead somewhere too dangerous, because he was unarmed with the exception of his data knife. 

Stepping further into the room, he noticed a book lying open and face-down on her bed. Park glanced at the cover.

_ The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde _ _  
_ _ By Robert Louis Stevenson _

The Void was kind of freaky, and using Renee’s portals in the ring always felt like a splash of cold water to the face, but he couldn’t bear to wait for her to return. Not now. Not knowing what that...that _thing_ had done to Elliott. 

Elliott was better off without him, of course. He’d known that from the start, but it had never been more clear than the night he woke up with his hands around Elliott’s throat. It wasn’t fair to him. Tae Joon wasn’t sure why Elliott would even want to be around him in the first place -- Park had nearly broken the man’s arm when they first met, in another knee-jerk moment of terror. Then he’d all but choked the life out of him, and it was like...it was like nothing had happened. Elliott was just sitting there with that crooked smile he’d so grown to love, trying to help him back up into the bed, but all Park could see were the bruises. His handprints bruised into Elliott’s throat, which had already been mangled by a monster. 

He couldn’t do it. A few bruises were the least that would surely happen to Elliott if they stayed together. If Park kept letting himself play house with him on that godforsaken hologram ship, Elliott would end up dead, just like his brothers. Just like Mila. If the Syndicate ever figured Tae Joon out, Elliott was as good as dead.

There was no way in hell he could do that to Evelyn Witt. Not a fucking chance.

So even though it hurt, even though it felt awful, he had to do it. He had to leave and stay gone. He’d been lying to Elliott, and to himself. There was no getting around it, and he’d known it all along. But for some reason, that hadn’t stopped him from pursuing Elliott at every opportunity. He hadn’t even tried to hit the breaks, not until the night he saw the bruises and everything came to a screeching halt. It had to, even without the bruises involved. His wanted poster was all over the god damn planet. It was too dangerous.

But just because he couldn’t have Elliott anymore didn’t mean he couldn’t protect him, or at least get revenge for the things that he’d suffered through. Taking a deep breath, Tae Joon stepped into the enormous indigo oval that hovered in the center of Renee's bedroom.

It probably goes without saying that he was shocked at what he found on the other side.

\--------

_“Mnnngh,_ fuck,” she sighs, watching him suck at her thigh. “Why does this feel so good? Why doesn’t it hurt?”

The vampire shrugs, unwilling to detach his mouth from her leg in order to answer properly. They’re making a fucking mess -- his sheets are, thankfully, black, but she can feel that they’re soaked with her blood.

_Guess I’m doing your laundry now. _

_Worth it._

She’s thoroughly enjoying his dinner, as she always does, but it’s especially exciting tonight, because for once, he isn’t holding back. His hands are free, and they’re all over her. One is resting on her stomach, the other holding her thighs open, and it feels so damn good to be touched by him, she could almost cry.

_ **Someone’s watching!** _

She yelps, nearly screaming at the unexpected, unbelievably loud voice from within the void.

_Who the fuck is--_

“Renee? What is it?” Evidently noticing her stress, the vampire has lifted his blood-smeared mouth from her thigh. "I--did I hurt you?"

“No, no...I’m not sure, I think someone’s watching us.”

“What?”

_“Shhh,”_ she hushes him, listening for footsteps.

She hears nothing, but that doesn’t put her mind at ease.

“It’s nothing,” she says, not wanting to alarm him.

Whatever it is, it’s kind of ruined the mood.

  
  
\---

  
  
“Ssibal!” Park hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as he crouched behind a large rock near the mouth of the cave.

  
  
_ She can hear it when you stare, remember?_

She’d heard him looking, from the sound of things, but he didn’t need to look anymore, anyway. 

He’d seen all he needed to.

\---

Renee couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched, even after returning to her own dimension. It was bothering her. Shadows didn’t usually trigger her voices. She was so preoccupied by the voice, she could almost forget how disappointed she was that she hadn’t managed to get those stupid pants off Tae Joon before the mystery voyeur ruined everything.

They’d parted on far better terms than before, obviously, but there was still a little tension. He still didn’t quite trust her, that much was obvious. Still, the passionate way he kissed her goodbye indicated this was the first of many sexual escapades she’d be having in that cave if she played her cards right. Just the thought of finally taking him to bed drove her mad with desire, especially now that -- thanks to Park -- she knew_ exactly_ how good he’d feel inside her.

But even the promise of more scandalous trysts with the gorgeous creature couldn’t fully shift her mind from the question that had wormed its way into her brain, refusing to leave since the moment she heard the voice from the Void. She pondered it, stuffing Tae Joon’s bloodstained sheets into the laundry chute in her bedroom.

_ Who could that have been? _

“Busy night?”

Renee screamed.

“Jesus_ FUCK,_ Park!” she squeaked, taking a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing in h--”

“You know,” Hyeon interrupts, narrowing his eyes at her from where he leans against her dresser, arms folded. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

_Fuck._

“Do you remember the day you broke into my room, backed me into a corner with that little knife of yours against my throat, and threatened to slit it if I ever so much as _thought_ about hurting Elliott?” he asked her, and the tone of his voice was all she needed to hear to know who had been watching her and Tae Joon in that cave.

Well, the other Tae Joon. She’d been pretty sure there was just the one, until she let his name slip out of her mouth and saw the way Park reacted, almost like he was familiar with it. Then, after her weekly dinner date with Ajay and Natalie (who Renee had recently started inviting to join them, because _someone_ needed to keep an eye on the kid. Someone besides _ Nox, _for crying out loud), she’d come face to face with something that suddenly made all the pieces fit: Tae Joon Park’s wanted poster, smack dab in the middle of the bulletin board in Renee and Ajay’s favorite cafe on the mainland.

Staring back at her was a face just like the one she’d seen in the holograph in the vampire’s cave. It was a photograph of Park without the synthetics. Before them, surely, because he looked incredibly young in the photo. She had ripped the poster down, and one short web search later, she knew everything there was to know about Elliott’s boyfriend, who was evidently on the run and wanted for fucking _murder._ That part had been a surprise. Especially because the victim was his foster sister, of all people. There was a picture of her on his desk.

_Who keeps a picture of the person they murdered in cold blood on their desk?_

Renee was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he hadn’t done it. It had ‘setup’ written all over it. Park knew something the Syndicate didn’t want anyone else to know, and they were willing to frame him for murder and spend untold millions tracking him down to keep it quiet. She had discovered all this just after Christmas, around the same time when Syndicate representatives had asked her if she’d be willing to let them make use of her portals again. It was the reason that, despite the _incredibly_ generous offer of compensation, she had turned them down. Something felt off.

She _was_ pretty sure Park blew up the Repulsor tower, however.

_Okay, yeah, he's probably done some of the stuff on this list. Not the sister-murdering, though. I think._

Though a part of her deeply wanted to know the true circumstances of his sister’s death, and his real reason for joining the Games, she decided against bringing it up. “Renee” was thrust upon her near the end of the previous season, and she hadn’t really had a choice. Hyeon deserved one. And as long as he wasn’t hurting Elliott, what did she care, anyway? Shit, she was spending some of her evenings with another known murderer -- one who _definitely_ did the crime of which he was accused -- who also had a false identity. She wasn’t exactly in a position to judge.

But all that was about to change, because Hyeon’s stupid, nosy, _ fucking wreckless _ass had followed her into the portal, and he now undoubtedly knew her darkest secret.

“Yeah,” she said cautiously, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why?”

Park met her gaze, looking ready to kill.

“Because the feeling is mutual, Renee.”

There is a very tense moment in which neither of them speak, neither of them breathe, both of them just hold position, waiting for the other to make their move. Finally, Hyeon _ (or Tae Joon, or fuck, whatever his name is) _ breaks the silence. He started to say something in Korean, but she interrupted.

“Stop doing that! Stop saying what you mean so I can't understand it, you coward. It's not fair!” she snapped, furious.

“Have you seen what that thing _ does _ to him? Fuck, Renee! I can’t--I have to tell Elliott. And when I’m done, I’m coming back here, and you are going to open a portal to that godforsaken dimension, and I am ending this, once and for all,” he spat, looking just as furious as Renee felt. “I don’t know if it’s got the two of you mind-controlled or what, but neither of you are thinking clearly. Fuck, you _ let _ it bite you?! You--you’re one of them now. I don’t want to tell Ajay any more than you do, but you cannot keep taking blood from the--”

_ Fuck! Of course he thinks I’m a vampire. Christ, how am I going to explain that? ‘Sorry you almost died, that was my fault, but thanks for the blood and the free nanobots!’ _

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Park,” Renee hissed. “But you are treading on thin fucking ice.”

_ Come on, drop it. Don’t make me do this. Please. _

“I’m sorry,” Hyeon said, and though he still looked angry, he looked miserable, too. “But he deserves to know. He deserves to know his best friend is fucking the thing that made him a monster, that almost killed me. If I have to tell the truth about what happened to me that night, so be it. But he deserves better, and you know it. He deserves better than both of us.”

Renee could feel her heart fracture at his words, and it made her feel almost dizzy. He was absolutely right about that part, at least. Elliott did deserve better than both of them.

“I have to tell him,” he continued, “And when I get back, I don’t care what I have to do to make you open a portal to that nightmare world, I’ll do it. That thing is hurting him. It’s hurting you, too, whether you realize it or not.”

_ Dammit, Hyeon. Please don’t make me do this._

He took a few steps toward her and she instinctively backed up, the five or so inches he had on her height suddenly feeling like a foot and a half.

“You don’t know a thing about me, Renee,” he added darkly, voice shaking with barely-contained fury. “You might think you do, but you don’t. I can promise you this, though -- you do _ not _want to get on my bad side.”

“Or what,” Renee snapped back, finally losing patience. “You gonna kill me like you killed Mila?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, she desperately wishes she could suck them back in. Park takes a step back, looking like he’s been slapped, and he doesn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes says plenty.

“Dammit, Park, I didn’t want to do this,” she palms her face, sighing with frustration. “But you’re not going to tell Elliott. You’re not going to tell Ajay. You’re not telling a god damn soul, because if you do, I will ruin you. I know what you are, who you are, what you did. I know you blew up the Repulsor in King's Canyon, I fucking _saw_ you in Singh's lab, and I know your name is Tae Joon Park, not Hyeon Kim. I know how much money this information is worth to the Syndicate. And I haven’t sold you out yet because Elliott thinks you hung the moon, and when you’re not being a _ fucking idiot, _ so do I. But if you mess with me, I will fucking _ wreck _ your stupid ass. So you’re not going to say a single fucking word, not to Elliott or anyone else, is that clear?”

She sounds so much like the version of herself from the Shadow world, it makes her feel nauseous, just like she felt nauseous having to shoot Elliott in the face that day she caught him and Hyeon fucking in the ring. It was just too familiar, too eerie, and way too fucking close to what she'd seen happen in her dreams.

She’s not sure when her knife got involved, but she’s suddenly clutching it tightly in one hand. Park has backed away, looking at her with a mixture of shock and betrayed heartbreak. Then it’s gone, replaced with cold indifference, and he turns his back on her with a sneer.

“This conversation isn’t over, Renee.”

The door slams and then he’s gone, and it takes every last ounce of self-control she possesses not to break her hand on the new mirror she just replaced the broken one with.

_ Now he thinks I’m a vampire. Great. That’s just fucking great. _

Renee wants to scream. 

\----

Storming out of Renee’s bedroom, Park is ready to scream.

_ What the FUCK is wrong with the people on this ship? Have they not noticed the thing has fucking fangs?? _

It’s 9PM on a Sunday evening, so all the legends with social lives are still out enjoying them, and the more introverted legends have withdrawn to their rooms for the evening. The dropship is the quietest it’s been all season, no drumming from Ajay’s room, no apron-clad MRVN making smoothies in the kitchen, only silence and the hum of the dropship’s engines.

That, and the annoying sound of those blasted flickering lights. It's an irritating, staccato sort of blinking sound, and it's slow driving him insane.

Park stops just outside Elliott’s door, wondering if he’s inside. It doesn’t matter, because he’s not going to knock. But he wants to know. Knowing where Elliott is makes his absence from Tae Joon’s life just a little less unbearable.

Not by much, though.

The lights are on, and he can’t imagine Elliott wanting to stay on the Boyfr--on the _Mirage Voy’age_ all by his lonesome. The urge to knock is overwhelming, but suddenly there’s a voice on the other side of the door. Two, it sounds like. 

_Maybe he’s got company._

The thought of anyone else laying a finger on the gorgeous, famous legend makes Park want murder something. Anything.

Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, Park finally manages to evict himself from Elliott’s doorstep. But just as he’s about to turn the corner leading down to the medical bay, he hears something _very_ strange.

First it sounds like a moan, which is enough to make him want to fly the god damn dropship into Solace’s sun. He’d deserve it, though, having to hear Elliott fuck someone else. It was exactly what he deserved for harming something so pure and beautiful and sweet and--

He hears it again, and it’s hushed but urgent. It’s the voice of someone trying to express something dire without making too much noise.

Park moves back toward Elliott’s door, pressing his ear against it. A few moments later, he hears it. It’s muffled, but it’s undeniably Elliott.

_“Please, no!”_

Park stumbles back from the door, eyes wide.

_What the fuck? _

\----

“Please, not again,” Elliott whimpers, trying to stay quiet. “It still hurts from last time.”

_ “Good,” _ purrs the cruel, wicked decoy, dragging its tongue up the side of Elliott’s neck. “I’m trying to make up for lost time, darling. And I don’t remember asking for your input.”

Elliott shudders, wishing he hadn’t said anything. It’s always worse when he fights it. It’s better to just let it happen, get it over with. He’s learned the hard way that his decoy is every bit as strong as he is.

He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut so he can try to pretend that the hand slipping into the front of the holosuit is Hyeon’s or the vampire’s or Renee’s, or the innocent decoy’s -- but even with his eyes closed, there’s no mistaking the cruel, possessive touch. Its other hand closes tightly around his throat, tilting his head to the side. Elliott’s trembling now, in anticipation of the pain. It’s going to hurt, badly, and it’s not going to heal for shit, because the only thing that can comfort Elliott after an encounter with this monster is sleeping in the bed on the _Mirage Voy-age,_ the one that still smells a little bit like Hyeon. 

But that ship doesn’t have a dermal regenerator, and the numerous holoemitters in every room mean he doesn’t even have to be anywhere near the holosuit for a decoy to manifest itself. Still, cuddling up to the decoy that doesn’t try to hurt him and snuggling into the fading scent of the man he’s still in love with is the only remedy for what’s about to happen. Even then, it’s more of a salve than a remedy. There’s no remedy for something like this.

He can’t help but squirm when he feels the hologram’s mouth at his throat, kissing the ruined skin there in a gesture that mocks true tenderness. It hurts less when he’s not so tense, but it’s hard not to be tense when he knows what’s coming.

“God, you taste so _fucking_ good,” the wicked thing breathes into his ear, rolling its hips forward against his ass. Elliott shudders, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then it buries both fangs in his already-wounded throat.

_“Please, no!”_

\----

The door flies open, kicked in because there wasn’t time for Jee to hack the lock. But the scene that greets Park once he’s all but broken down Elliott’s door is a lot to process, and it takes his brain a minute to catch up. Instead of seeing Elliott and the purple-skinned monstrosity, as he'd expected, Park is met with a different sight: there are _two_ Elliotts, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell which one of him is real. This is mainly because Park is distracted by the fact that Elliott’s holosuit is half off, and the decoy’s hand has disappeared beneath it, and the tears on Elliott’s cheeks are _definitely_ not from pleasure, because the hologram has buried both fangs in the side of his neck, right on top of the wound Park had found on him earlier, and Elliott's shoulder is covered in blood.

All three of them are frozen, even the decoy, though Park can see that it’s still tonguing the wound it just put in Elliott’s throat with a greedy sort of glee, and for some reason, that’s what does it. 

It drops Elliott when it sees Park coming towards it, letting the trickster collapse to the floor, where he lands on his knees with a pained cry. Both hands now free to fight, the creature steps around him, grinning at Tae Joon with bloodstained teeth.

“I wondered when we’d meet,” it sneers, smiling too wide. “Took you long enough.”

Park says nothing, because he has to act fast. There’s a good chance the decoy is just as strong as Elliott is, and going up against it in hand-to-hand combat won’t be easy. 

It laughs when he shrugs off his jacket like he’s squaring up for a fist fight, but it screams bloody murder a second later, when it’s hit with the blast from his EMP.

_ Yeah, not so nice when you’re the one getting hurt, huh? _

In a flash, he’s knocked the decoy to the floor. It struggles beneath him, still weak from the EMP, and his hands are around its throat in a heartbeat, just like in his dream. He leans down into its face, teeth bared, wanting to watch the light leave its eyes.

It only occurs to him after a few moments that the decoys don’t need to breathe, and that holograms probably aren’t susceptible to traditional murder methods. 

That’s just fine. Park’s never been one for traditions anyway.

It’s gasping and choking beneath him, still struggling, but the timer is quickly running out on the effects of the EMP blast, and they’ve long since passed the point where a mortal man would fall unconscious. 

_ Jenjang! This isn’t working. _

The decoy’s eyes widen when Tae Joon retrieves the data knife from his boot, and its facial expression goes from irritated to fucking_ terrified _ in a split second.

_Bingo._

“No, please! Wait!”

_ You didn’t wait when Elliott begged, michinom. If he weren't here to see it, I'd be taking my sweet time with you, you fucking monster.  
_

Before the decoy can recover anymore of its strength, Park raises the knife above his head with both hands.

"Please!" it screams, still struggling against the effects of Jee's EMP.

Park pauses for a moment, knife still raised.

“You got a bug. Let me fix it.”

Then, in a single swift, decisive motion, he drives the blade deep into the decoy’s chest.

It screams, and the sound is dual in nature -- both high-pitched and low, it sounds almost demonic. Sparks fly from the center of its chest as it writhes beneath him, hands going to the hilt of the blade to try and pull it out. 

“IT BURNS!” the hologram shrieks as it writhes beneath him.

_ “Good,” _ Park seethes, reaching down as though he’s going to pull out the knife, but instead giving it a cruel twist.

The decoy gurgles, going limp, still shooting sparks from the hole in its chest.

The sparks aren’t what shocks Park, surprisingly. No, what’s shocking is the absolutely _ insane _ amount of blood pouring from the wound. More blood than should be in a human body, like he’s stabbed a human-sized tick. Park has never seen a decoy bleed before, and he’s shot plenty of them.

Even more shocking than the blood is the fact that it remains on the floor, staining Elliott’s yellow throw rug and Tae Joon’s hands even after the decoy has completely dematerialized.

_ What the--? _

Suddenly Park knows where Ajay’s blood supply has been disappearing to.

_ Oh shit. I owe Renee an apology. And her boyfriend, too. Dammit.  
_

Before he can even process that thought, one of her portals has appeared, and she’s standing in front of him. The anger on her face immediately dissolves as she takes in the scene she’s just walked -- well, _ phased _ in on.

“What the fuck--I heard screaming, a-are you guys okay? _Jesus,_ what the hell happened in here?”

Park opens his mouth, then closes it again when he realizes he can’t even begin to find the words to explain.

Renee’s already moved on, though, because she interrupts before he can answer.

“Where’s Elliott?”

Park whips around, scanning the room, and she’s right -- Elliott is nowhere to be found. For one terrifying moment, Park is sure he’s made a terrible mistake. Then he hears a soft sob come from an empty corner across the room.

“Elliott?” Renee asks in the general direction of the sound.

There’s no response, just more sobbing.

Park gets to his feet, carefully making his way across the room. He reaches out, and though there’s nothing visibly in front of him, his hands collide with something solid. A moment later, Elliott reveals himself, deactivating his holographic camouflage. He’s curled up in the corner sobbing, blood still leaking from the wound in his neck. He flinches when Park instinctually reaches for him, and Tae Joon has never felt so guilty in his fucking life, except perhaps the day he lost Mila.

“Fuck,” Renee breathes. “I’ll be right back.” Then she disappears into an ethereal trail of bluish-purple light.

Park wants to cry. Wants to scream. Wants to pull Elliott into his arms and apologize for everything, every lie, every misunderstanding, every hurt feeling or miscommunication. But he’s pretty sure that being touched is the last thing Elliott wants right now.

“Elliott,” Tae Joon murmurs softly, not wishing to upset him further but unable to bear his silence any longer. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Elliott sniffs, staring miserably at the floor. Before he can answer, a portal appears, with Renee not far behind.

“Here,” she says gently, approaching Elliott like a wounded animal that she’s trying not to scare off. “Let me see. It won’t hurt.”

Elliott doesn’t flinch when Renee reaches for him, Park notices, swallowing down the guilt that’s welling up in his throat and threatening to drown him completely.

_ Why wouldn’t he flinch? You hurt him, you left him, you let him get hurt. Oh, and then you murdered him in front of himself. _

_ Well, sort of. _

It needed to happen, but Park can’t help the guilt, and as he watches Renee hold the dermal regenerator up to Elliott’s throat with gentle hands, all he can see is how much better she is for Elliott than he is. She fixes things. 

Park just breaks them.

“There, all better,” she says once she’s finished healing up the would.

It’s not all better, of course. But it’s better than it was.

“Do you--” she starts, then stops, like she’s not sure if she should say it. “Elliott, you’re covered in blood. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Elliott makes an “uh,” sort of sound, but he nods after a moment. Renee helps him up, and suddenly Park remembers something.

“I’m taking this,” Park says in a tone that doesn’t leave room for argument, motioning towards the holoemitter in Elliott’s suit. “And I’m deleting him. Okay?”

Elliott nods silently, and doesn’t flinch or protest when Park reaches towards him to disconnect the holoemitter from his suit, pocketing it. Park briefly considers reviving the decoy, just so he might have the pleasure of stabbing it to death a few dozen more times.

“Will you help him shower?” Renee asks, turning to Park. “I need to grab something. Here, I’ll leave you a portal.”

“To where?”

“His ship, where else?” she answers, like it's a silly question. “I’ll meet you there.”

\---

True to her word, Renee meets them on the _ Mirage Voy’age _ a few minutes later, with a bottle of pills rattling in her hand. Park has just finished rinsing the blood from Elliott’s skin, which was an awkward endeavor, especially because showers generally require one to be nude. But that didn’t feel right, taking off his own clothes -- in part because of what had just happened to Elliott, but also because of what had happened between them. It didn’t feel right to actually join him in the shower, but Elliott appeared to be running on autopilot, and seemed to need some gentle prodding to stay on task. As gently as possible, Tae Joon helped him out of the holosuit. Then he stood, fully clothed, outside the shower, getting water absolutely _ everywhere _ when he pushed the curtain aside to help rinse the blood from Elliott’s soft, tan skin. It was worth it though. Anything was worth it if it helped, and didn’t make things any worse.

Elliott had just stood there under the water, mute and unmoving. His eyes were distant, glazed over, like he was a thousand miles away, and then Park was glad for the water that was spraying all over the place, because it was the only thing keeping Elliott from seeing his tears.

Tae Joon Park was definitely, absolutely, undeniably crying.

\-----

“How is he?” he asks Renee when she finally emerges from Elliott’s bedroom after putting him to sleep. She’d left the door open, but Park had stayed out in the hall, not wanting to intrude but unwilling to let Elliott out of his sight, either.

“Physically? Ok. He’s not gonna scar, but this has apparently happened so many times I’m not sure that really makes a difference, aesthetically-speaking,” Renee replies with a deep, exhausted sigh. “His neck looks awful, even healed.”

Park nods, unsure what to say. 

“Mentally...I don’t know. I gave him something for anxiety, rubbed his back a little. He’s asleep now, and not shaking anymore, so that’s good, I think. After what happened, it’s probably the best we can hope for. Honestly, he needs...I don’t know. He needs a lot of things, starting with intensive therapy, if I’m being totally honest. But he needed that before this, too.” 

She pauses, gazing out at the dark landscape below them with those beautiful, ethereal eyes.

“Honestly, Hyeon--or whatever the fuck your name is--he needs _ you,” _ Renee folds her arms, suddenly reminding Park how angry she’d been at him earlier, and that he still owed her an apology. “He barely talked about what happened to him, he just wanted to know if you were okay. Have you guys talked at all? Since--”

“No,” Tae Joon admitted miserably. “I just happened to be around. I heard...what was happening. Kicked down the door. Stabbed a hologram. Then you arrived.”

“Wow, is that the first time you’ve talked to him since you broke up?” she asked, looking surprised.

“We did not _ break up--” _

“Does Elliott know that?”

Park stops in the middle of his sentence, because she’s right. Elliott definitely doesn’t know that they didn’t break up, or that Tae Joon never wanted to in the first fucking place. Instead of answering Renee’s question, he replies with a question of his own.

“You think your friend should be dating a wanted murderer?”

Renee rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. You’re not a fucking murderer.”

Park laughs, because that’s genuinely a good one. The Syndicate had accused him of murder, thereby committing him to a lifetime of it, because there would _ always _ be someone he had to kill. They would never stop coming after him. There would always be something lurking in the shadows, often closer than he expected.

“I wasn’t a murderer. Once. If you knew half the things I’ve done just to stay alive--”

“Come the fuck on, Park,” Renee interrupts. “It doesn’t count if you kill somebody who tries to kill you first.”

“I see. I shall adjust my kill count accordingly.”

Renee rolls her eyes again, but says nothing. There’s a lull in the conversation, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  
  
“I’m sorry,” Tae Joon says finally. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I hurt your friend.”

_ “You’re _ sorry? Shit, _ I’m _ sorry. My friend was kind of asking for it, if you didn’t notice. He totally could have said _ ‘hey, I’m not the one chewing on your boyfriend’ _ instead of getting all bitey on you. Fuck, I’ve been lying to you _ and _ Elliott. I’ve been so busy trying to protect my, uh, friend from you, I didn’t think about what else could be out there hurting Elliott. I just knew it wasn’t Tae Joon. But I should have listened to you. I should have helped. I’m sorry.”

Park puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you helped,” he assures her. “You’re the reason he’s not having a panic attack or bleeding from the neck anymore.”

She gives him a half-hearted smile. They both fall silent again.

“I’m sorry, Renee. I really am,” he repeats after a moment. “I probably could have explained things a little more thoroughly before I declared war on your boyfriend and got pissed at you for not helping me wage it.”

“He is _ not _ my boyfriend,” she snaps defensively.

Park laughs. “He _ so _ is.”

“Shut up, no he’s not. Pretty sure he’s still pissed at me for fucking you,” she replied.

“You _ told _ him about that?” Park asks in disbelief.

“No! I--look, it’s a long story. But he knows what happened in the ring that day. And he knows about the other night. He thinks I was only interested in him because I can’t have you, or some shit like that,” she sighs, looking dejected. “It’s fucking stupid. He does the same shit you do, the whole _ ‘I-don’t-need-anybody’ _ thing where it’s obvious you fucking do.”

“I do that?”

“Duh,” Renee said, as if it were a scientific fact. “That’s what this whole breakup thing is. You just realized you were happy and sabotaged it, because happiness can be taken away. But if you throw it away, then at least it was your choice.”

Park finds himself rendered speechless by her apt assessment of events, because she couldn’t be more right.

“Yeah, I get it. Trust me,” she adds. “I used to be the same way. _ ‘Oooh, look at me, I’m so tough, I’m not here to make friends, blah blah blah.’ _ It was code for _ ‘oh god, I am so fucking scared and lonely, always, all the time, please help me,” _ but I don’t think anyone realized that, except Elliott. I was scarier back then than I am now, the voices were always shouting, I wasn’t in therapy yet. He drove me nuts at first, but he saved me. Taught me how to act like a person, not a caged animal. Taught me it’s okay to trust people, sometimes. I don’t think he even realizes it, but he saved my life. I’d be a human deathbox if it weren’t for Elliott. A badass deathbox, but still. Living like a ghost isn’t really living.”

“Yeah,” Park mumbled miserably, looking down at his hands. “It’s not.”

“I’m not going to tell him,” she said suddenly. “About you, I mean. About your...about everything. If you could return the favor and maybe not mention that I’m feeding the blood-sucking version of his boyfriend from another dimension, that would be pretty fucking sweet.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Park replied. “But I am curious -- why are you helping him? He _ did _ hurt Elliott. Not recently, but rather permanently, wouldn't you say?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Renee sighed, seemingly more frustrated with herself than anything else. “Because he needs help. He needs somebody to show him that he isn’t a monster. I know what it feels like to think you’re a fucking freak of nature who shouldn’t be alive. He’s like me, an experiment gone wrong. They made him what he is, and he didn’t even choose it the way I apparently did. They volunteered him against his will. And in his dimension,_ I’m _ the person who did all of that to him. Y’know that Singh guy I have you keeping an eye out for?”

Park nodded, wishing he had news to share on the man’s whereabouts, but he’d heard nothing. 

“Yeah, I _ am _ that guy in his world. The version of me that lived there fucking murdered the Elliott from that dimension, turned you into an involuntary test subject for my fucked-up, illegal genetic experiments, then locked you in a cave for three hundred years and effectively threw away the key when shit started getting messy.” 

For a half a second, Renee looked as though she might cry, but the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and her expression returned to neutral.

“He’s been trapped in that cave ever since, living on animal blood. Somebody fixed the repulsor, so now all he has is Shadow blood and me. You saw what Elliott was like before he started eating. Tae Joon has lived like that for the last three hundred years, and then we show up for Shadowfall. Elliott’s a nearly-identical replica of his dead boyfriend. I'm not saying it was right. Just saying I'd have probably done the same thing. Your boyfriend is pretty cute, dunno if you've noticed.”

_ Oof. Jee, set reminder: show Renee how to turn off repulsor. _

“Damn,” Park murmured. “That’s...fucked.”

“It really is,” Renee said, gazing off into the distance. “It really fucking is. Anyway, that’s the only reason I didn’t immediately murder his ass for almost killing you, and for biting Elliott in the first place. He’s a different person when he’s eating right, seriously. He’s never hurt me.”

“He better fucking not have,” Tae Joon blurts out before he can stop himself. “Uhm, _ miahnhe.” _

She laughs. “Relax, he’s harmless. This guy is the P2020 of scary monsters.”

Park snorts. “So I shouldn’t underestimate him, then?”

Renee rolls her eyes. “Whatever. That gun sucks ass and you know it.”

\-----

When he’s sure that Elliott is asleep for the night and that Renee doesn’t mind sticking around, Park heads for the dropship. The last thing he wants is to leave Elliott’s side, but there are things that need doing. Specifically, decoys that need deleting. Plus, whatever Elliott is going through, Park is pretty sure he lost the right to comfort him when he disappeared from the famous legend’s life with zero warning.

_ You are such an asshole, Tae Joon. _

-

He sighed, rubbing at his artificially-enhanced eye. Park was exhausted. He still hadn’t slept yet, and there would be no sleep until he knew that Elliott’s decoys were running smoothly again. The wicked one’s personality program had been deleted entirely, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Fixing the problem didn’t matter if he never figured out what started it. He was almost desperate enough to send Evelyn an email asking for help, but continuing to tinker mindlessly with the suit was far easier than typing out an e-mail explaining even one-fifth of what had happened over the past twenty-four hours.

  
Groaning, Park pulled out his phone. It was early, and Elliott was definitely still asleep, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

**Hyeon 9:14AM:** Hey. Can we talk?  
**Hyeon 9:14AM:** When you feel up to it, I mean. No rush.  
**Hyeon 9:15AM:** My door is open, if you want some company. Almost done fixing your suit.

The door’s not really open, of course, but it is unlocked, which is more than can usually be said for it. Park is trying, but it’s hard. Being secretive and defensive is coded into his DNA. Letting himself be vulnerable -- even if it’s just vulnerable enough to leave the door unlocked for Elliott -- is fucking scary.

He looks at his phone again, but there’s no reply. Of course there isn’t, because it’s 9AM and the man was likely exhausted, physically and emotionally, from the events of the previous night. 

_ He doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave him alone. _

A song is playing through the speakers on his desk, and it’s an old one, from some ancient band Renee likes. Listening makes his chest ache, but he doesn’t want to stop, because it sounds exactly how he feels.

_ What a pathetic string of words _

_ Just leave them lying on the floor _

_ The warning posted on the door _

_ Not over here, not anymore _

_ There was a place it could have been _

_ Step over all that used to be _

_ Since you have let yourself come in _

_ Some things I'd rather you not see _

All he wanted was to see Elliott. To talk to him, really talk to him, one-on-one, about...well, about everything, really. But Elliott would have questions, and some of them weren’t the kind Tae Joon was currently prepared to answer. And with Renee promising to keep his darkest secret, he wouldn’t have to, if he didn’t want to. He could keep lying, and Elliott would never know.

_ See I keep lying to myself _

_ Don't know what else there is to do _

_ If I could be somebody else _

_ Well, I think I would for you _

Elliott deserved the truth. But the truth was ugly, and Elliott also deserved better than that. He deserved not to be murdered, or kidnapped, or tortured for information on Tae Joon Park’s current whereabouts. Keeping the truth a secret felt terrible, but somehow, telling the truth feels selfish, too. Like he’s putting Elliott’s life in danger just to unburden his own conscience.

_ Didn't it seem like something more? _

_ So long I can't remember when _

_ All this has happened all before _

_ And this will happen all again _

_ And I only have myself to blame _

_And I only have myself to... _

A few lines of code catch his eye, standing out from the rest of the holosuit’s programming. Park squints at the monitor. The code sticks out because he recognizes it. It’s very similar to the code he used to create Saja -- well, to imitate Saja, very convincingly. The holographic cat had been Evelyn’s first assignment for him after giving him the holosuit schematics, and he hadn’t seen much of his feline friend, as he hadn’t spent much time in his own room until recently. It worked, though. Just like Felix. Mystik had sent him the cat’s neural data, and by the end of the day, the fat orange tabby cat was purring in his lap. At the time, he’d just felt despair, because he couldn’t do for himself what he was doing for Elliott -- he couldn’t create a Mystik hologram to comfort him or give him advice. There was far too much risk involved. Thus, the cat.

Lately, though, he was grateful for the cat’s company. Very grateful, at least until he noticed the lines of code that had been copied from the cat’s program and pasted into the holosuit’s, undoubtedly an accident on Evelyn’s part.

_Shit. I’m going to have to start checking over her work before I update the suit. _

The code itself he was familiar with, as he’d spent a week marveling at it after meeting the Witt family pet. Two words jumped out at him from where they were nestled neatly between brackets:

_ HungerProtocol.exe _

_ Ssibal, are you kidding me? Goddamn fucking cat. All of this could have been avoided. _

He’d nearly lost his life because of three lines of accidentally-pasted code. Elliott had been attacked, repeatedly, for _ months _, because somehow the code that made Evelyn’s amazing holographic cats imitate hunger had ended up smushed in with the code for one of the decoys’ behavioral matrices. And of course, the hunger it felt wasn’t for food. It wanted blood, because it was Elliott’s hologram, and Elliott was a fucking vampire. On another part of the screen, outside the terminal, Park noticed the free will slider was cranked up to 10 -- which was as high as it went -- but the slider for adjusting the obedience setting was hovering halfway between 2 and 3.

_ No wonder that thing bled everywhere when I stabbed it and was showing up all on its own. I should have looked at this sooner. Jenjang! All that suffering and there was no fucking point to it. All over a fucking cat. _

“You suck,” he grunted in the cat’s direction, frantically deleting the code and readjusting the behavioral settings.

Saja replied with a clipped little meow, readjusting his position in Park’s lap.

Then he remembers the security feed he installed in Lifeline’s med bay. Pulling it up, he skimmed through the footage of the last several weeks. There was nothing out of the ordinary, until he hit the week they'd split up. Something strange caught his eye. Rewinding the tape, he watched in awe as Elliott yanked open the drawer of the cooler in med bay and stuffed a handful of blood bags into his holosuit, keeping one on hand and promptly sinking his fangs into it. 

But it _ couldn’t _ be Elliott, because the timestamp at the bottom of the footage indicated it had happened while Elliott had been getting tattooed. Somehow the hologram was manifesting without the holosuit, presumably hacking into the nearest holoemitter and projecting itself thought the glass doors of Ajay’s clinic.

The blood, the attack, and the decoy’s behaviour itself -- all of it made sense. Except for the holoemitters. Elliott didn’t know how to hack a holoemitter, and his decoys shouldn’t, either.

Park sighed, resting an elbow on his desk and his head in his hand as the other hand stroked through Saja’s orange fur, turning the mystery over in his mind, hoping to see something he missed before if he looked at it from a different angle. He rewatched the footage his optical implant recorded of the attack, even though it was absolute torture to witness, but there was nothing new there, either. Just a hungry, mean decoy and a terrified Elliott.

Leaning on his desk, Park’s elbow bumped the keyboard, and a moment later, the decoy had manifested itself in front of him. 

Reflexively, Tae Joon jumped from his seat so quickly that it tipped over and sent Saja scampering across the room. Without a second thought, he promptly punched the holographic bastard right in the nose. It didn’t occur to him until a moment later that it _ couldn’t _ be the evil one, because he’d just deleted that one’s personality. 

The decoy looks at him with fear and betrayal shining in its tear-filled eyes, and whatever was left of Park’s heart fucking shatters.

_ Fuck! No! _

“Oh god--I thought--I am so sorry, little one. I thought you were someone else, forgive me, I--” Park stammers, so ashamed of himself that he can’t find the words. 

Hurting Elliott on accident was bad enough, but hurting this poor little creature was somehow even worse. It sniffs pitifully, wide-eyed and still rubbing at the part of its face that Park had just put his fist into.

“Is it--is he g-gone?” it asks timidly, scanning the room like it’s looking for someone. “The other one, I mean. The...the mean one.”

For the first time, Tae Joon becomes aware of the possibility that the real Elliott isn’t the only one the wicked decoy has hurt. For the second time, Park finds himself overwhelmed by the urge to remove its personality program from the recycling bin and get it running, just so he can kill it again.

“Yes,” he replies. “He is gone. For good.”

The decoy breathes a sigh of relief, but the tears don’t stop. Thankfully, it doesn’t flinch when he reaches out to wipe them from that pretty face. It’s shaking, though, and its nose is still red from making contact with Park’s fist a moment earlier.

Before he can really think about it, six incredibly stupid words have left his mouth.

  
  
“Would a kiss make it better?”

  
  
The decoy nods, sniffling again.

Tae Joon means for it to be a quick, chaste peck, planted on the tip of the decoy’s swollen nose. And it is, at first. But once he’s done it, instead of pulling back, Park leans down to capture its lips with his own.

It squeaks, tensing up beneath him, and for a moment, he nearly does the right thing -- he nearly makes himself stop. But then it relaxes, sighing into his mouth, melting into him, letting him take what he wants. And _ god, _ does he want. Two weeks worth of wanting. Fifteen days. Well, sixteen, now. Desire bubbles up inside him and overflows, and then he’s pinning the poor creature against his bedroom wall and plundering that sweet, innocent mouth with absolutely zero restraint.

_ Fuck, jagi. _

It may not be an innocent peck, but he means for the kiss to end, eventually. Truly, he does. 

But the decoy lets out this shocked little gasp when their lips touch, and then it sighs into Park's mouth, and somehow that not-so-innocent peck has turned into rough, open-mouthed kissing and Park can't stop himself from biting those pretty lips red and slipping his tongue between them, can't stop himself from tasting that sweet mouth, because it’s been _ so fucking long _ . And then he _ doesn’t _ stop, he tries to but he can’t, because it’s been forever and he’s afraid to touch the real Elliott and hurt him again and _ god, this one is just so…submissive. _

Elliott’s decoy is soft and sweet…in every sense of the word. It’s so easy to make it gasp and moan and whimper, even easier than pulling those sounds out of Elliott himself...which is really, _ really _ saying something. It’s so fucking _ eager, _ but so innocent, too, and that innocence does something to him, because he’s a greedy monster. It makes him feel like a lecherous old man, but it's not enough to make him remove his hungry mouth from the decoy's pretty lips.

_ Fuck. _

It's moaning into his mouth, squirming against him, trapped between his body and the wall. Then he's kissing down the decoy's scarred throat and sucking gently at the skin there, and when he does, the decoy whimpers a soft little _ "please" _ that makes Park's cock so hard it fucking hurts, it _ aches,_ and he hates himself for what he's doing.

Not enough to stop doing it, though. 

He's roughly mouthing at the sweet little decoy's soft skin now, sucking a bruise into its throat and making it beg even more.

_ Because you haven’t already bruised him enough, you fucking monster... _

_ "Ah! _ P-please, _ please, _ I n-need--_mnnngh!" _ the decoy moans obscenely when Park shifts his weight and lets it feel how hard he is.

He knows he shouldn't go any further, not with this innocent little creature, who he's not entirely sure has even had sex before. He’s never even seen Elliott fuck it with anything but his hands, and it feels _ so _ wrong to be doing this now, without the real Elliott there. But the decoy isn’t saying no, it's fucking _ begging _ for it, and that’s...kind of a problem. It’s whining and shuddering and it’s hard as fuck, too. It's rutting its cock against his thigh and fucking calling him _ “Daddy” _ and _ oh god dammit-- _

Park can’t help it. 

He yanks the poor thing away from the wall, shoving the decoy down onto his bed where it lands with a surprised little squeak. Park follows after it, pulling off his shirt. Then he’s unzipping the decoy's holosuit, yanking the upper half of it down and exposing the shy thing's gorgeous torso like he had the day Elliott got tattooed. He can’t help but stare, and his mouth is watering because it feels like an eternity has passed since he last touched the man he loves. The sweet little decoy shivers, cheeks and ears flushing pink when it sees how Park is looking at it, all but salivating. But it doesn't ask him to stop when he runs a hand over its stomach, up its bare chest, and pins it beneath him, dragging his mouth over every inch of exposed skin he can reach and relishing how easily he has the normally-quiet creature absolutely _ begging _ for his dick. Pleading for it. Tae Joon is drunk on the feeling.

"P-p-please, I n-need it so ba-a-ad, Daddy," the decoy sobs, grinding its hips up in a desperate search for friction.

_ Fuck. Oh fuck, Elliott._

As much as he'd love to bend the shy little hologram over his bed and fucking _ bury _ himself in it until both of them make a sticky mess, he can't do that. It doesn’t feel right, even though the decoy keeps pawing at Park's crotch through his pants, grinding against his thigh and whimpering that fucking _ "please" _ over and over...

But he can't. Fucking the shy, innocent one feels wrong. Sucking it off does, too. But it feels _ less _ wrong, and at least this way he won't be tempted to leave it covered in bites and bruises like the real Elliott often is once Park is done with him. At least this way, he won't lose control.

He trails wet kisses down that tanned, muscled stomach, licking the edge of an exposed hip bone and then gently sinking his teeth into it. The noise the decoy makes is so shameless and desperate that _ Park _ moans when he hears it, entire body throbbing with desire. The decoy's hips are jerking upwards still, trying to grind against something, anything. 

Teasing the sensitive skin of its lower stomach with his tongue, Park waits until it thrusts its hips up off the bed again and when it does, he yanks the holosuit the rest of the way down, freeing its cock and eliciting a needy little whine.

Park is pinning its hips to the bed as it squirms, whimpering _ "please, please, please, please." _ The hacker licks his palm and wraps a hand around the decoy's swollen, aching cock.

_ “Oh, _ your hand! Y-your _ skin!" _ the decoy gasps when it feels Park’s artificial flesh around its cock for the very first time. "_Mmmngh, _ s-so good…” 

_ Fucking hell. I am going to destroy this sweet little thing, god. _

It's thrusting desperately up into his hand now, gasping out these soft little _ ah! _ sounds with each stroke of Park's slick synthetic palm, and he's almost content to just let it go on, let it fuck up into his grip until it makes a mess all over itself. But that would be a bit cruel, he thinks, and decides against it. Maybe next time. Right now he doesn’t want to do anything that could deprive it of the pleasure he so badly seeks to give.

_ Fuck, Elliott. You are so perfect. All of you. Every part of you. I can't stop-- _

He can’t stop himself from swallowing the shy decoy's cock, because he needs to know if it tastes as good as Elliott, if the decoy tastes as sweet as it sounds. 

_"Agh! Mmmmmmnnngh_, Daddy, _please…"_

The decoy's back arches up off the mattress when its cock hits the back of Park's throat, throbbing on Park's tongue as the hologram writhes beneath him. He can taste the little drops of salty fluid that leak from its dick every few moments when he slides his tongue ring under the decoy's cockhead, making it sob out another little plea. Park is blushing now, too, because the needy little thing seems intent on referring to him only as _ ‘Daddy.’ _

_ Oh god. Alright, you know what? It’s fucking on. _

He doesn't even turn the tongue ring on all the way, just lets it vibrate for a few moments here and there. Every time he does, the soft, sweet decoy tenses up from head to toe, cock throbbing between Park's lips as it gasps out a surprised little moan.

_Mmmm, I could listen to this all day long. _

He swallows its cock down as deep as he can take it, and when he glances up at the decoy, he can see tears slipping down its pretty pink cheeks again. This might make Park feel a little guilty, except that the beautiful hologram is still thrusting up between his lips moaning, _ "yes, ohgod, pleasepleaseplease don't stop, please!" _even as the tears fall.

And Tae Joon just can’t fucking help himself. He’s not stopping, not a fucking chance. He’s not even sure he could stop if he _ wanted _ to.

He pulls his mouth off the begging hologram's dick, eliciting another desperate cry. Then he sucks two of his metal-tipped fingers into his mouth, tonguing them thoroughly and coating them in saliva. Still gripping the decoy's cock with his other hand, he slips those slick fingers between its thighs, teasing its tight little hole with his smooth fingertips. The decoy's whining becomes even more high-pitched, and Park feels its cock throb in his other hand.

Park gently slips a finger in him, and the decoy's dick pulses again, leaking even more pre-cum from the head. It moans loudly at the stretch, grinding down onto his hand and shuddering with need. When Park slides a second finger inside a few moments later, pressing firmly upwards, every muscle in that beautiful body tenses up for a moment as it sobs out another needy, gasping _ "please!" _

Crypto is stroking the decoy's cock at the same time he strokes his fingers against its core, and a strangled cry leaves the pretty little hologram, more tears spilling over onto its cheeks with each deliciously cruel stroke.

"P-please, I need--I n-need--"

_ "Shhhh, _ it's okay. Let me take care of you," Park purrs, tongue darting out to swipe over the head of the decoy's weeping cock.

_ "Ah! _ S-s-so c-close, _ please!" _ it whines desperately.

"Are you going to cum for me, little one?" Park murmurs softly, meeting the decoy's tear-filled gaze as he continues stroking its cock. “Are you going to let me taste you?”

"Ye-e-es puh-le-ee-ease," it hiccups, nodding desperately as the muscles of its stomach begin clenching with each gasping breath. "L-l-let me cum, p-please Daddy, I--" 

_ Jesus fuck, you have got to stop calling me that before you end up bent over this bed, jagiya... _

The decoy's pleas are cut off by a choked moan when Park begins stroking deeper, firmly squeezing the hologram's cock and groaning, _ "Fuck, _ Elliott," as he watches the pretty little thing writhe, still desperately thrusting up into the synthetic skin of his palm and grinding down onto the sensors covering his fingertips.

Elliott -- the real one -- looks just as pretty this way, when his cheeks are flushed pink and tear-stained, cock swollen, thick and red and throbbing as he cries and shakes and begs. The decoy isn't Elliott, but it's _ fucking close enough, _ and Park shoves that thought into the back of his mind as he shoves the decoy's dick into the back of his throat, swallowing it down and moaning around it, then slipping his tongue out and dragging the little steel piercing up against the seam of the decoy's balls with its cock still buried deep in his throat. Its hands fly to Park's hair, it thrusts up into his throat two, three times, and then it's cumming so suddenly and so much that it overflows Park's mouth, some of it spilling from his lips and dripping down onto the decoy's belly as it lets out an absolutely _ wrecked _ moan.

"Fuck, fuck, Daddy, _ FUCK--!" _

Park grins around its pulsing cock. He's never heard it curse like this before today.

The decoy makes a weak little noise in the back of its throat as it watches Park swallow its load, whimpering softly when he finally pulls his mouth off its oversensitive cock.

The real Elliott walks through the door just in time to see Park leaning over his decoy's naked body, dragging his pierced tongue through the puddle of cum that has pooled on its bare belly.

** _Fuck!_ **

\-----

Elliott had been entirely unprepared for what was waiting for him on the other side of Park’s door. He’d woken up that morning, surprised to see Renee there, but unsurprised that Park has disappeared in the night. Renee was curled up in the chair in the corner of the bedroom, fast asleep. Elliott’s heart started to swell a little when he realized she stayed the night just to keep an eye on him. The man he loved was nowhere to be found, though, and the events of the previous night came rushing back to him so fast it almost made him dizzy. 

Everything is ruined. Hyeon doesn’t love him, but he still saved his ass, even though they’ve barely spoken at all in over two weeks. It doesn’t matter that he saved him -- Hyeon would have done the same for anyone on that ship, Elliott’s pretty sure, except perhaps Nox and the new guy, McCormick. It wasn’t personal, Hyeon was just Doing The Right Thing like he always did. It meant nothing. It meant less than nothing, actually, because now he’d seen the truth, seen every ugly inch of Elliott’s darkest, most painful secret, and who in their right mind could ever love someone like him, after seeing what Hyeon saw him do to himself the night before?

Elliott rubs at the scar bisecting his eyebrow, groaning.

The decoys were obnoxious at best, dangerous at worst, and Park wasn’t like Silva -- he only took risks that were carefully calculated, and only when he knew things would end in his favor. Elliott wasn’t a risk worth taking. Elliott was a liability.

Elliott was also surprised to see there were three new messages from Hyeon waiting for him when he finally checked his phone.

_ It’s just about the holosuit. He doesn’t want to actually talk to you. _

“Sweetheart, just go talk to him,” urged the version of Evelyn that Hyeon had given him for Christmas. 

At first it was kind of weird, talking to her, but Elliott had quickly gotten used to it, and even though his heart ached every time he took out her holoemitter, thinking of both Hyeon and the real Evelyn back home, it was nice to have her around to talk to. He still talked to the real Evelyn, of course. But it was amazing to have a version of her that wasn’t prone to forgetting his name in the middle of difficult conversations. A mother who wasn't steadily forgetting him.

“You really think I should? Maybe I should wait a day or two…” he mused. He didn’t want to appear too eager to see Hyeon. A part of him was still angry at the man for breaking his heart, after all, and he didn’t want the hurt to show on his face.

“Yes, sunshine. I really think you should,” said Evelyn, running a hand through his curls before cupping his cheek and stroking it gently with her thumb, just like her real-life counterpart would have.

“Mmkay,” Elliott sighed. “If you say so.”  
  


-

  
By the time he’s gotten to Hyeon’s door, he doesn’t care about seeming eager anymore. He is eager, god dammit, and a part of him is hoping that the beautiful hacker will still fuck him, even if he’ll never love him back.

_ Fucking’s all I’m good for, anyway. _

Elliott’s mood improves rapidly once he crosses the threshold and enters Hyeon’s room.

_ Oh. My. God. Is that the shy one?! Fuck, this is, like, painfully arousing. _

Elliott's dizzy from how quickly all the blood drains from his upper body and straight into his dick the instant his brain processes the impossibly hot scene in front of him.

_ Is this a dream? _

Elliott pinches himself. 

_ Ow! _

_ Not a dream. Holy fuck. _

Park leaps away from the decoy when he sees Elliott, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and instantly flushing the deepest shade of red that Elliott has ever seen on those gorgeous, high cheekbones. Hyeon immediately averts his gaze, looking even more embarrassed than he had when Elliott figured out that he _ liked _ being hit with the EMP. The shame is palpable, and Elliott feels a little guilty because it's...it’s kind of arousing, how embarrassed Park is, and everything about what Elliott just caught him doing is _ so fucking hot. _

_ Jesus, baby… _

Park is still just kneeling there on the floor, staring at it, trying not to look at Elliott or the decoy, who is shuddering on the bed with its legs spread and a lazy, satisfied smile on its face. Park looks _ so _ ashamed, though. His chest is heaving and he's flushed bright pink, kneeling there shirtless and hard as a rock and _ fuck _ , it's so _ hot, _ Elliott doesn't even know why, really, there's just...something about how _ embarrassed _ Park looks that makes Elliott's dick so hard it's starting to hurt.

"Hey, don't stop on my account," Elliott says with a sly grin.

The decoy is still gasping, shaking and whimpering a little as it tries to catch its breath. Elliott kneels on the bed, reaching out to caress the decoy's face for a few moments. It hums contentedly, rolling over on its side and snuggling into Park's bed.

Elliott steps around the side of the bed, and Park starts visibly breathing heavier the closer he gets. As gorgeous as he looks kneeling there -- half-naked, lips pink and swollen, his cheeks blooming with the heat of shame -- Elliott doesn't want to be mean. Well, not _ too _ mean, anyway. He doesn't want Park to _ actually _ be ashamed, because whatever the fuck Elliott just walked in on is the hottest thing he's ever seen in his life. He'd like to see more of it, ideally on, like, a tri-weekly basis.

"Hey," Elliott says softly, crouching in front of the gorgeous hacker. 

Slowly, he reaches out to stroke the side of Park's pretty face, running his thumb along the man's synthetic jaw and tilting his chin so he'll look at him. But Hyeon doesn’t look. Elliott gently turns Park's chin toward him, but the man still won't raise his eyes to meet Elliott's gaze. Hyeon is all but hyperventilating now, like some sort of small woodland creature that's being hunted by a predator, frozen in place and not daring to move except to breathe, little heart pounding away in its chest. Elliott can hear Park's rapid heartbeat in his head even though there's no blood anywhere and his fangs haven't descended.

"Baby," Elliott tries again, doing his best not to let his voice betray how fucking turned on he is. 

_ Why are you like this? It’s so inconvenient! Down, boy! _

Something has to be wrong with him for being this turned on. 

"Will you look at me? Pretty please?" He hopes he doesn't sound too pushy.

Park's gaze flickers up a little more, he's staring at a spot slightly below Elliott's collar bones now, but he still won't look him in the eye, so Elliott doesn't push.

"Look, whatever...whatever happened that night, the night you left -- we don't have to talk about it. But I'm not mad at you, and you didn't hurt me, okay? So just...know that. Whatever that was, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to. Please don't--don't--" Elliott sighs, "Don't disappear on me, okay? Please."

_ Please. _

He strokes Park's cheek, thumbing the spot where his optical implant shows through the skin. Park lets his eyes fall shut. He's still breathing heavy but not as rapidly as before. Elliott really, _ really _ wants to kiss him but now doesn't exactly seem like the best time.

"Um, also, whatever I walked in on just now? Th-that was, that was--oh my _ god, _ that was so hot, _ fuck. _ Uh, sorry. I'm n-not trying to be weird. I just don't want you to think I'm upset with you, 'cause I'm not, and neither is he," he motions toward the decoy, who is still recovering on Park's bed. 

"And yesterday you--" Elliott cuts himself off, tries to collect his thoughts before he continues. "You...did something I didn't have the strength to do for myself. So thank you. I mean it. You're amazing, and you're perfect, and I love y--" 

_ NOPE, nopenopeNOPE do _ ** _not _ ** _ fucking say that shit to him, Elliott! _

But it's too late. He can feel Park's eyes on him, finally, and now suddenly _ Elliott's _ the one who can't make eye contact.

"Do you mean that?" Hyeon asks.

Something about the way Park asks the question makes Elliott's chest ache. That beautiful voice sounds sad somehow. It's full of doubt and trepidation.

_ Yes. Fuck yes, I mean it. I love you so fucking much it hurts, it's all I think about, I need it, I need you, I-- _

Elliott swallows. "Uh, which part?”

“You know which part.”

He sighs. ”You uh, y-you sure you really want me to answer that? Honestly?"

"Yes."

_ Alright, fuck it. You asked for it, dude. _

Elliott finally glances up at him, gives him a pained sort of look and says, "Yeah, Park. I do. I love you. I love the fuck out of you. I...have for a while. Pretty much from day one, when you almost broke my fuckin’ arm."

There's a very long pause. Elliott doesn't know what the hell to make of the way Park is looking at him, but the man doesn't say a single word for an uncomfortably long time.

\---

When Park finally speaks, it's in Korean, but he stops himself halfway through the first word, remembering what Renee had yelled at him the night before, when they’d argued. 

_ 'Stop doing that! Stop saying what you mean so I can't understand it, you coward. It's not fair!' _

So Tae Joon decides not to speak. Instead, he does something else. Something fucking stupid, he knows, but he can’t help it anymore.

Park leans in slowly, but Elliott still gasps when their lips meet. 

Faster than either of them really mean for it to happen, Elliott's stripped bare in Park's bed, moaning into his mouth and whimpering when the hacker pulls back from his lips and leans down, mouthing at Elliott's shoulder. Then Park pulls him close and breathes him in, sighing "Elliott…"

_ ‘You know he loves you. You don't care. You just _ ** _take._ ** _ ’ _ The vampire's words haven’t left his mind once since they entered it all those weeks ago, because it was right--he’s the real monster in all of this.

"You don't have to love me back," Elliott murmurs against his neck. "You don’t have to be my boyfriend. You can tell me to fuck off and give you some space, and I'll do my best. I mean, n-no promises -- the drop ship is starting to get a little, uh, crowded, lately. But I'll do my best to let you be, if that's what you want. I can't stop loving you, though. I can't control that. I can't make it stop. Trust me, I've fucking _ tried. _ I can fuck off and try to get over it, though. I can leave you alone."

_ Please. Please do not leave me alone. _

Park is blinking back tears, squeezing Elliott tighter so the trickster can't pull back far enough to see his face.

"I don't want to, though," Elliott whispers softly, voice cracking a little bit. "I don't want to leave you alone. I don't want to get over you. I want to love the shit out of you. And that's really, really selfish of me, because I don't know anything about you, Hyeon. Not really. I don't know what you're thinking, like, ever. I don't know what the hell you're saying half the time. I don't know what you want, what you came to the Games for, and shit, sometimes it seems like you don’t even want to _be_ here. I don't know what you're running from. I’m...I’m not even sure I know your real _name,_ to be perfectly honest. And I don't _care._ You don’t have to tell me about the bad stuff, or the stuff you don’t want to talk about. I love you, even though I don’t know who you are. I love everything I _do_ know, I love every little part of you that you've ever let me see, and I--I just--_fuck," _he's getting choked up, so he pauses, taking another steadying breath before he continues.

"Everything is so fucked up and crazy lately, it's scary and it’s dangerous and I wouldn't have made it through...though what happened to me...without you. I'd have starved to death that first week after I got bitten, or gotten eaten by that fucking decoy, or, I dunno, I--I'm sorry, fuck, I'll shut up..."

Park has pulled back a little, hovering over the trickster and tracing a thumb over the scar that splits his eyebrow. The scar Elliott wouldn’t tell him about. He’s pretty sure he knows where it came from now, and even though the decoy has been deleted, it still makes him furious, makes him wish he had something else to kill for it, someone else to spend all that bottled up rage into. 

"Elliott," he says. "Don't be sorry."

Elliott laughs. "Easier said than done. Look, I just, I d-don't want to make things weird. Weirder. Whatever. I don't--"

"Elliott," Park interrupts again.

Elliott falls silent, looking up.

"I love you, too."

Park isn't sure who moves first, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that their lips collide and he's suddenly pinned under Elliott's comforting weight, and then that beautiful mouth is on his synthetic skin. Then he's being relieved of his shirt and that mouth is kissing down his chest, his stomach, and ghosting over his hips and Park couldn't resist him if he wanted to, he's too perfect.

So he doesn't. He doesn't try to talk him out of it or try talking sense into him. He just lets Elliott love him.

And he loves Elliott back.

\---

"F-Fuck, baby. Does that feel good?" Elliott purrs against Park's shoulder, snapping his hips forward and burying every inch of his throbbing desire in Park's tight warmth. “Do you like it when I _ fuck _ you?”

_ "Mhmmmngh!" _ is about all the man in his arms can manage, words-wise. He's trapped between Elliott's hand and his cock, shuddering and gasping and so close to the edge that all he can do is shake in the trickster's unnaturally-strong arms and fucking _ take _ it.

_ "Mmm, _ is that right?" Elliott teases, "You poor thing. I think it's time we let you cum, don't you?"

_ "PLEASE," _ Park gasps, entire body going rigid when Elliott begins thrusting into him a little deeper. Elliott’s edged him twice already, and he’s begging so shamelessly that even _ Elliott’s _ turned a little red-faced from the sounds. Park’s cheeks are also a deep shade of pink, and he’s shaking, head lolling back on Elliott’s shoulder and exposing that beautiful neck to the trickster’s sucking mouth.

“El-li-ott, p-please, I--_ah!_\--fuck, _ please!” _ Park is gasping, breath hitching as he sobs out each syllable of Elliott’s name.

The shy decoy--well, not _ so _ shy, apparently--is on its knees in front of Park, patiently awaiting further instruction, eyes following Elliott's hand as it strokes up and down Park's aching cock.

“Oh sugar, you know I can never say no to you,” Elliott growls against Park’s shoulder, jerking his hips forward a little more aggressively. 

The hacker can only whimper in reply.

Elliott looks over Park's shoulder at the decoy kneeling in front of him, giving it a little nod, then releasing his grip on Park's leaking cock.

Tae Joon opens his mouth to protest its absence, but before he can get his mouth around any actual words, the decoy gets its mouth around his dick, and Elliott is grinding into him from behind, and then he's making a pathetic, needy, _ filthy _ little noise that he'd be utterly humiliated by if he weren't half a second from cumming.

_"Elliott!" _ is all he manages before he's painting the back of the decoy's throat and clenching tightly around Elliott's cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and then Elliott is crying out against his shoulder, yanking Park's slender hips back against his own and spilling into him with a desperate sob.

_ "Fuck, _ baby," Elliott gasps after a few moments of bliss-induced silence. “Fuck.”

Crypto laughs. "Yes. _ 'Fuck' _ indeed."

The lights in Park’s room flicker for a moment.

\-----

** _COMMS - TALOS RELAY STATION_ **

** _**FLAGGED FOR REVIEW**_ **

** _SMS TRANSCRIPT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _BLASEY, RENEE_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _CODENAME: WRAITH_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _27 JANUARY_ **

**Renee 4:52PM:** You two watching the new guy’s interview later?  
**Hyeon 4:52PM: ** No. We…already have plans.  
**Renee 4:53PM:** Gross lol. Can’t blame you though, at this point I’m just hate-watching. I met him earlier and he fucking called me ‘angel face.’  
**Hyeon 4:53PM:** …and he’s still breathing?  
**Renee 4:54PM:** For now. Apparently it’s rude to murder someone in front of a live studio audience. Who knew?  
**Hyeon 4:54PM:** Shame, that.  
**Renee 4:54PM:** No kidding. Whatever, dude’s days are numbered, I can’t wait to see this guy in the Ring. He’s fucking BEGGING for a shanking. Next time he tries to get all up close and personal with me, he’s getting stabbed. I’m just glad it’s not me he’s moving in next door to.  
**Hyeon 4:55PM:** Ugh. Please don’t remind me.  
**Renee 4:55PM:** Pfft. Like you’ll even notice. When was the last time you spent the night in your own room, again?  
**Hyeon 4:56PM: ** Shut up.  
**Renee 4:56PM: ** Make me.  
**Renee 4:56PM:** You think he’s gotta lube up that elbow to keep the joint from squeaking when he jerks off?  
**Hyeon 4:56PM:** …  
**Hyeon 4:57PM: ** I am certain your friend Mr. Silva would be happy to investigate. Though perhaps Pathfinder is in a better position to advise you on the finer details of mechanical self-stimulation.  
**Renee 4:57PM: ** Ahahahaha, ewwww.  
**Renee 4:57PM: ** Okay, got another one for you: what’s bigger - his dick, the arm, or his ego?  
**Hyeon 4:57PM: ** Perhaps you can ask him yourself. Interview’s happening on the island.  
**Hyeon 4:57PM:** But since you asked – I think you already got it right, from smallest to largest.  
**Renee 4:57PM: ** LMAO, true. I’ll give you a recap when you’re done with those “plans” you have with Elliott. Please let him get to sleep at a reasonable hour. I keep getting squadded up with him lately and he sucks ASS in the ring when you keep him up til 4AM the night before.  
**Hyeon 4:57PM: ** No promises.  
**Hyeon 4:57PM: ** (:  
**Renee 4:58PM:** Ugh. GROSS.

—

**Renee 5:30PM: ** Took your advice, decided to go glare at him in person. He fucking WINKED at me from the makeup chair. I’m going to barf.  
**Renee 5:56PM:** OK it’s starting. 50AC says he doesn’t make eye contact with anything but the journalist’s chest for the entirety of the interview.

—

**Renee 6:02PM:** OH GOD  
**Renee 6:02PM: ** FUCK  
**Renee 6:02PM:** Where are you right now??  
**Renee 6:03PM:** WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS?  
**Renee 6:03PM:** HYEON. DO NOT MAKE ME CALL YOU.  
**Hyeon 6:03PM: ** ???  
**Renee 6:03PM: ** Blood is EVERYWHERE. Oh fuck, oh my god. I swear to fuck I was kidding, I wasn’t serious about the stabbing! jesus fucking fUCK this is FUCKED  
**Hyeon 6:03PM: ** What?  
**Renee 6:03PM:** [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmmNYDmvS2k ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmmNYDmvS2k)

_ Missed call 6:03PM – HYEON _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:03PM – ELLIOTT _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:04PM – HYEON _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:04PM – HYEON _

**Hyeon 6:04PM:** Answer the god damn phone Renee.

_ Missed call 6:10PM – HYEON _

**Hyeon 6:11PM: ** RENEE.  
**Renee 6:15PM:** Shit, sorry. It’s a mess here. Fucking chaos. They’re evacuating everyone, wouldn’t let Ajay touch him.  
**Renee 6:15PM:** God, I think he’s dead. Permanently. Unless he’s hiding a fucking respawn beacon in that big-ass arm. Fuck.  
**Hyeon 6:15PM: ** Where are you? Are you safe?  
**Renee 6:15PM:** I waited around and phased back in to get a look once everybody left. Dude, something is UP. Syndicate lackeys and Hammond brass buzzing around his death box like hungry flyers. Guts everywhere, not a medic in sight. Ajay is losing her shit. She forcefully reset a security guard’s nose when they wouldn’t let her get to the guy. They’re letting her treat the journalist for shock at least.  
**Hyeon 6:15PM:** Fuck.  
**Hyeon 6:15PM:** We’re on our way back. Mainland is a mess. Barely caught the last ship back before they grounded all the flights. You need to get out of there.  
**Renee 6:16PM: ** I’m gonna try to find Path, see if his night vision caught anything. The lights went out for a second and then it was just…there. Did you see that thing? What the FUCK was that?!  
**Hyeon 6:16PM:** Whatever it was, it just won over every way-too-rich asshole Hammond has in their pocket. They must be furious. Imagine going to a tech expo where the newest holophone fucking murders its competitor in front of a live audience.  
**Renee 6:16PM:** It didn’t even hesitate. It…I’m pretty sure it was entirely robotic, I mean, right? Fuck, it looked right at me and then it just…fucking gutted him. Did that really just happen? I don’t even think anyone went after it…  
**Renee: 6:16PM:** Fuck, something’s on fire over by Skyhook. Too far away to get a good look.  
**Renee: 6:16PM:** SHIT, did you feel that? What the fuck, was that an earthquake?!  
**Hyeon 6:16PM:** Renee, get the hell out of there. If you see that thing, phase to wherever the fuck it can’t follow you. I’m looking for it but Jee’s navigation system crashed the minute I got within 100m of the building. Now the radar’s fucked.  
**Renee 6:16PM:** Really? Weird. Ajay couldn’t get D.O.C. working at first either…  
**Hyeon:** You need to leave, now. Meet us on the ship.  
**Renee 6:17PM:** Which one?  
**Hyeon 6:17PM:** What?  
**Renee: 6:17PM:** Which ship?  
**Hyeon 6:17PM:** Not the dropship.  
**Hyeon 6:17PM: ** …the other one.  
**Renee 6:18PM: ** The Boyfriend Boat?  
**Hyeon 6:18PM:** 젠장…  
**Hyeon 6:18PM:** YES, Renee. That one.  
**Renee 6:20PM: ** Ugh, it’s gonna be a minute. Phase-tech is on the fritz now so I gotta hoof it and I’m halfway across the map. My phone is being all fucky, too. You sure you didn’t drop an EMP on this place?  
**Hyeon 6:20PM: ** Very funny. Hurry up, Elliott’s worried about you. And be careful. You do NOT want to tangle with this thing only armed with a kunai.  
**Renee 6:21PM:** No shit?! Don’t think I’ll forget about that, dude. I did just see it put a hole through a guy with its fucking MANTIS MURDER-ARM WHAT THE FUCK.  
**Renee 6:21PM:** Well. Several holes. Kind of one big one by the end, really…  
**Renee 6:21PM: ** Sorry. I don’t handle stress well. This whole thing is a little bit stressful.  
**Hyeon 6:21PM: ** Probably a bad time for me to mention that all of the Elliotts on this ship are having a panic attack.  
**Renee 6:22PM: **Christ. Be right there.

———————————–

** _SMS TRANSCRIPT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _STONE, LISA_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _OTV CORRESPONDENT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _27 JANUARY_ **

**Lisa 5:45PM:** EEEEEE I’M SO NERVOUS  
**Min💕 5:45PM:** Don’t be! You’re gonna fucking nail it.  
**Min💕 5:46PM:** I’m serious! You’re gonna do great. Don’t psych yourself out, you worked hard for this. You earned it. The first of many legendary interviews, I’m sure. :)  
**Min💕 5:46PM: ** Plus the guy looks a couple bullets shy of a full chamber if you know what I mean. No offense. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze.  
**Lisa 5:48PM: ** Awww, be nice!  
**Min💕 5:49PM:** I’ll be nice later. ;)  
**Lisa 5:49PM:** omg stop 🙈  
**Lisa 5:49PM:** I’m freaking out. It’s time! Of course the lights are flickering again. This island sucks.  
**Lisa 5:50PM:** BTW I’m wearing that shirt you got me. :D

—

**Min💕 6:00PM:** Do you think he jerks off with the metal arm? Based on personal experience, I have to assume the answer is yes. That arm is fugly as hell tho.  
**Min💕 6:00PM: ** Tell him to stop staring at your boobs. Or at least be more subtle about it.  
**Min💕 6:00PM:** God you look amazing.  
**Min💕 6:01PM:** The shirt is nice. It looked better on my floor, though.  
**Min💕 6:01PM: ** You weren’t kidding about those lights, lol.  
**Min💕 6:02PM: ** Ooooh, spooky robot. I dig. He part of the show?  
**Min💕 6:02PM: **What the FUCK

_ Missed call 6:03PM – MIN💕 _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:03PM – MIN💕 _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:03PM – MIN💕 _

**Min💕 6:03PM: ** Lisa?  
**Min💕 6:03PM: ** Fuck.  
**Min💕 6:03PM: **I’m locking up the bar and coming to get you. Call me back as soon as you see this.

_ Missed call 6:08PM – MIN💕 _ _  
_ _ Missed call 6:14PM – MIN💕 _

**Min💕 6:15PM: **Almost there.  
**Min💕 6:17PM: **God fucking dammit. Flights are all grounded.  
**Min💕 6:17PM: **Please call me and let me know you’re OK.

_ Missed call 6:18PM – MIN💕 _

**Min💕 6:18PM: **Shit, Lisa. Please be OK.

—-

** _SMS TRANSCRIPT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _KIM, HYEON_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _CODENAME: CRYPTO_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _27 JANUARY_ **

**Min 6:19PM: **I need a favor, assuming you’re not dead. Disregard this message if you are currently being murdered to death by a…fucking robot necromorph-thing. Android necromorph-thing? Not sure what the difference is tbh.  
**Hyeon 6:20PM: **I’ll let you know once I’ve got the fucker disassembled on my desk. Sort of occupied at the moment. Technically alive though, I suppose. What’s up?  
**Min 6:21PM: **You said you’re friends with that chick who does the portals and shit, right?  
**Hyeon 6:22PM: **If you’re about to ask me for her number, this is kind of a bad time.  
**Min 6:22PM: **No, idiot. Rescue mission.  
**Hyeon 6:23PM: **Got it. Call me.

\---  
  
**Min 7:46PM: ** Thank you. So much. I’m serious, I owe you one. Tell Renee I said thanks, too.  
**Hyeon 7:47PM:** 천만에요, of course. But since we’re counting, you owe me, like, five.  
**Min 7:47PM:** Yeah, yeah.  
**Min 7:47PM:** Listen, Lisa has a hi-def recording of that interview. I paused it at the gnarly part and dude. That thing is definitely Hammond-made. Look at the screen on the back of its hand. Just like mine.  
**Hyeon 7:48PM: **Holy shit, you’re right.   
**Min 7:48PM:** Of course I’m right. And that’s not even the crazy part. You still got your copy of that inquiry they did into my mom’s death?  
**Hyeon 7:49PM:** Yeah…  
**Min 7:50PM:** Page 492. Start reading at the second paragraph.  
**Hyeon 7:50PM: ** I don’t carry the thing around with me, Min.  
**Min 7:51PM: ** Ugh, hold on.  
**Min 7:53PM:** Check your email.

Park opens the e-mail, then opens the enclosed .PDF and is met with an enormous wall of text.

_ “The witness states that the site experienced intermittent power failure in the week preceding the incident. Site was repeatedly investigated for the source of the fluctuations, no issues could be found in hardware or software. On the incident itself, the witness states: ‘Everything was business as usual, ‘cept for the lights ‘n all, but that was pretty common, especially then. Bosses said it was somethin’ ‘bout the locals not liking ‘lectricity or some shit, throttling our power or somethin’. I dunno, I just fix the toilets. Anyway, them lab coats was fixin’ to power up their fancy whatchamacallit--yeah, that thing--but they was still running safety checks when it happened. The lights started gettin’ all fucky, fuckier than usual, I mean. I only seen it cause I was takin’ a shit at the time, see, and it came in through the vents in the bathroom. The lights go out, and I hear this sound like somethin’ metal an’ real heavy just landed on the floor next to the stall. When the lights come back on, I see these feet, right? And they ain’t human, them’s robot feet. But they don’t pay me no nevermind, nor I them, seein’ as how I was currently indisposed, and I ain’t particularly fond of chasin’ robot feet while I am clocked out on my break…” _

_“...Anyhow, it just walks out the door and I’m thinkin’ ‘Wow, we get one of them fancy new vent-cleanin’ robots already? Well shit, I might be out of a job.’ I didn’t realize nothin’ was even happenin’ ‘til I heard the screamin’. And I mean, you hear the screamin’ sometimes, that ain’t that uncommon, but they usually put ‘em outta their misery real quick-like. But see, I know this ain’t no screamin’ test subjects, ‘cause there’s gunfire. Now, you don’t usually hear no guns goin’ off in here. Them labcoats got creative ways to hurt folk, but they ain’t much for weapons in general. They keep a few firearms in case of a ‘mergency, but I ain’t never seen one get used before then. Maybe a real dangerous test subject escaped, one o’ them ones that’s like mutants, or whatever, but I thought they don’t keep them here no more. So now I’m thinkin’ the robot is security, y’know? Come to neutralize the threat, which is labcoat-speak for ‘murder the shit out of some poor soul when my science fair project goes wrong,’ but I digress…” _

_"_ _...Anyways, when I finish my business, I poke my head out the door, see if I can’t get a look at what’s goin’ on out there. There’s still guns goin’ off and the screamin’ is only gettin’ louder. I see people runnin’ for their lives, an’ I realize they’re runnin’ from this robot I seen before. Some got guns, most is just runnin’, but shit, that don’t even matter. This thing lets em run, the way it moves--I ain’t never seen anything like it. There must be twenty people in that lab, but the doors is locked from the outside, and security ain’t openin’ ‘em. And this thing--it looks like the god damn Grim Reaper, got a face like a skull that’s crying. Looked more like a damn bandit than any robot I ever seen. And it ain’t even in a hurry, it ain’t in any rush, it’s just pickin’ ‘em off one by one, fuckin' eatin’ bullets the whole time. Shit, somebody threw thermite an’ it didn’t even flinch. You ever been hit with ignited thermite? Shit hurts. Anyway, I’m maybe 50 feet back, down this hallway, so it don’t see me. And I see Jose and Mariah, they’s had the good sense not to run, like me, they’s just hidin’ under a desk. Jose holds a finger up to his lips, like I’m dumb enough to make some noise. And we just sit there and watch, while it takes ‘em labcoats apart one by one. I tell you, I ain’t ever seen so much blood. Sheeeit. I’s glad I shit beforehand.” _

_“….Anywho, the screamin’ stops eventually, so I crawl down the hall a little bit, ‘cause I can’t see the thing no more. Jose puts his hand up, like, to tell me not to go no further, so I stop, sorta crouch behind this table in the hall. And I hear it walkin’ on them metal legs, comin’ back to where I can see it, and it’s got the lady--shit, I ain’t too good with names, but it’s got the scientist lady, that real pretty one, think she’s--was--Vietnamese or some shit? I don’t remember. But it’s got her by the neck, right, and it’s holdin’ her up up off the ground like she don’t weigh a damn thing. I mean, she don’t, but still. And she’s chokin’ ‘n strugglin’ and finally she just stops, like she’s givin’ up. Like she was expectin’ it, almost. Just goes limp. It raises its other arm, like it’s gonna karate-chop her, but then--and I swear I ain’t fibbin’--then its hand just sorta...compacts, till it’s all sharp ‘n tapered-like, like it could stab ya. But right when I think Pretty Scientist Lady is gonna bite it, this thing’s head just fuckin’ explodes. One of the other labcoats somehow kept all his innards intact, and he's standin’ there with a peacekeeper, uh, keepin’ the peace…” _

_“…So it keels over, right, and drops her. Peacekeeper Guy helps her up, Jose an’ Mariah an’ me crawl out of our hiding places, and we’s the only ones left alive. Everybody breathes out that breath they been holdin’ in for 20 minutes. Jose throws up twice. It’s a damn bloodbath, and it’s kinda disorientin’, seein’ all them white walls and shiny floors splattered with red, so we don’t even notice the smoke comin’ off this thing. I mean, it probably has some pretty powerful hardware, and it just got blown to bits, the smoke ain’t too surprising. But see, the thing is, it don’t go away like regular smoke. It gets thicker ‘n thicker and I hear Mariah scream, but she ain’t lookin’ at the spot where the robot went down, she’s lookin’ behind Mr. Peacekeeper. There’s smoke behind him, too, and when I look back at the robot corpse, the thing is fuckin’ gone. Then...then a demon comes out of the smoke, and it shoots the guy with his own shotgun._"

_"_ _...An’ I know this sounds crazy, but the longer I look, the more I realize this ain’t no demon. It’s the robot. Only it’s gone all spooky-like, all blackened and cracked like it’s been burned up all over, and its eyes are glowin’ and they ain’t no fuckin' LEDs, I’ll say it like that. Whatever it is, it ain’t...it ain’t of this world. The smoke is everywhere. But then it ain’t. It’s gone, and the robot is there, back to normal, not all spectral ‘n shit no more. And its head is back in one piece, somehows, an’ me an Jose and Mariah is pretty sure we’s done for, on account of we isn’t hidin’ no more, and we’s the only ones left to kill. It’s maybe 3 feet from Mariah, and she’s shakin’ and cryin’ but it walks right on by her and Jose and me, and it don’t pay us no nevermind. It grabs Pretty Science Lady again and lifts her up in the air and does that thing with its hand again, makes it sharp like a knife, and then goes all shadowy and smoky again. An’ even though she don’t seem surprised that it wants to murder her, the thing with the smoke must be a shock, I guess, cause she cusses a few times and says “What the hell are you?” An’ it stops for a second and says in this voice like--like I don’t even know what, like a monster--it says “Justice.” Then it fuckin’ guts her like a fish and drops her like a hot potato. It goes over to the control booth and turns on the big portal thingamajig, and just walks on by us again like it don’t even see us. Right when it’s about to walk on through, Mariah says “Wait!”--I still can’t figure out what possessed her to do such a thing, if I’m honest--and it turns around an’ looks at her with them awful yellow eyes, lookin’ like somethin’ out of a damn horror movie. An Mariah’s still cryin’ and she goes, “Why didn’t you kill us?”--I guess ‘cause we maintenance folks was the only ones left alive--an’ the big metal bastard kinda looks at her for a minute, like it’s thinkin’ up an answer. Then it just shrugs, and says, “You're not on the list,” an’ walks into the portal just as casual as you please. I don’t know what the hell it was, but it weren’t no fuckin’ MRVN, that’s for damn sure." _

Park looked back at the e-mail, scanning Min’s message.

_ It goes on like that for another 10 pages, but you get the gist. I never really paid attention to this part, besides the face-value WTF-factor of it all, I guess I always just thought this guy was nuts, or a drunk, or both, but shit. That is almost exactly what we just saw happen on OTV. _

_ That thing fucking killed my mom. _

_ -M _

**_P.S._ ** _ Just curious, you didn’t happen to rip my arm off of one of those things, did you? ‘Cause if so, that’s fuckin’ badass and I’m kind of pissed you didn’t tell me. _

Once his jaw is off the floor, he types a reply.

_ Min, _

_ You are a genius. That thing was definitely a Spectre, good call. One of them used to be a pilot for the IMC back in the War, almost killed Jack Cooper. Apparently he took it down for good, but there are rumors that somebody got their hands on the, uh, wreckage. And no, I did not steal your arm off a live murder robot, for fuck’s sake. I’m good, but I’m not that good. The arm’s an older model, probably older than you, but it’s good quality. Reliable hardware. Found it in a dumpster outside a Vinson facility. So...yeah. It probably came from one of those things. But I promise it was dead first. Like, before I got there. _

_ -TJP _

**_P.S. _ ** _ Don’t do anything stupid. I know this is exciting, but we need to be careful. If you get your other arm yanked off, it might be a while before I can replace it. The one you’ve got now was a lucky find. I’m serious, Min. No fucking around. _

A moment later, he received her reply.

_ Okay Dad, jeez. I won’t do anything stupid. Anyway, me & my dumpster arm are forever in your debt. Lemme buy you and Elliott a drink sometime soon, k? Come in whenever you need one, I don’t have shit else going on. Hank misses you! _

_-M _ ****

**_P.S._ ** _ I’m a genius? Can I get that in writing? _

Park snorted.

  
_ Min, _

_Please don’t call me Dad, “oppa” is bad enough. At this rate, if I come in whenever I need a drink, I’m never going to leave. It is so fucking weird that you named that thing, Min...and before you say it -- Jee actually has an AI. And a personality. :P _

_-TJP _

**_P.S._ ** _ No you cannot. _

\-----

** _SMS TRANSCRIPT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _WITT, ELLIOTT_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _CODENAME: MIRAGE_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _28 JANUARY_ **

**Mom💖 11:08AM:** Thanks for calling me back, sweetheart. I was up all night worrying about you.  
**Elliott 11:08AM:** Shit, I was up all night worrying about me, too. JK lol  
**Mom💖 11:08AM:** I’m not kidding, Elliott. You need to be careful. I can’t believe they haven’t evacuated every soul on that planet. I can’t believe they’re still letting you play!  
**Elliott 11:09AM:** Mom, it’s fine. Really. I’m a big boy, ain’t no ugly hunk o’ metal gonna mess with a Witt and survive to tell the tale! I’m sure they won’t let us play ‘til they know it’s out of the arena. Seriously, don’t worry. I’m fine.  
**Mom💖 11:09AM:** Elliott, listen to me. You need to be careful. Check your mailbox later, once the courier stops by Talos. I want you wearing this armor at all times. I mean it. If the Syndicate has issues with the shield upgrades, they can come to me. I’m not sending you into a fight unprotected, I don’t give a shit about the rules. That big guy--your friend, dammit, what’d you say his name was?--he gets away with shields. And they let him rez people faster than normal! The new suit will give you an edge. The guys at the top don’t have to know about it.  
**Elliott 11:09AM:** Awww, thanks Mom.  
**Mom💖 11:10AM:** Please wear it, Elliott. I’m serious. I tried to make it look...imposing, at least. I know robots tend to spook you, thought a few inches of metal between you and that thing might make things a little less scary. Anyway I made it look like that superhero you like from that movie...I forget the name of it, the guy with a sentient suit of armor and a bad attitude, the one where him and his friends are all trying to kill that evil guy with the purple skin, or something?  
**Elliott 11:10AM:** Robots DO NOT spook me, mom.  
**Mom💖 11:11AM: ** The Revengers!! That’s the name, right?  
**Elliott 11:11AM:** Uh, yeah. Close enough. Anyway, listen--I wanna show you something. Here.  
**Elliott 11:11AM:** _[MMS -- new_ink.png]_  
**Mom💖 11:11AM: ** Oh, Elliott…  
**Elliott 11:12 AM:** Early V-day present. I was gonna do it for Christmas, but I pussied out. You like it?  
**Elliott 11:14AM:** Well, I hope you like it, ‘cause it’s not the kind you can change. You want it off me, you’ll have to cut it off.  
**Mom💖 11:15AM:** It’s stunning, sweetheart. I love it. Gorgeous, just like you. Did it hurt?  
**Elliott 11:16AM:** Glad you like it. And yeah, but only a little bit. Nothing compared to, like, a thermite grenade. Hyeon was there, it wasn’t bad.  
**Mom💖 11:16AM:** You’re so brave! I could never do that! Tell Hyeon I said thanks for keeping an eye on you. You two still attached at the hip 24/7?  
**Elliott 11:17AM:** Uh, yeah. 24/7.  
**Mom💖 11:17AM:** Glad to hear it. The suit been running okay?  
**Elliott 11:17AM:** Yep.  
**Mom💖 11:18AM: **Good...you sure you’re alright? That interview was scary as hell, and I’m thousands of miles away, I can’t even imagine how you feel. That must have been so scary up close. You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?  
**Elliott 11:18AM:** Of course! I’m great. Perfect. Never better!  
**Mom💖 11:18AM:** Alright. Well, I sent the next software update to Hyeon, it takes less time when I don’t have to do it remotely. Plus I want him to get a little more practice with the suit. That kid is smart as a whip, he’s gonna put your mom out of a job here soon! Anyway, let me know how you like the armor. Syndicate gives you any shit about the shields, you tell them to talk to me. You sure you’re feeling up to playing this season, honey? Maybe you should take some time off…  
**Elliott 11:19AM:** Nah, I’m fine. Thanks for the new suit, you’re the best.  
**Elliott 11:19AM:** I love you, Mom.  
**Mom💖 11:20AM:** I love you too, sunshine. Be careful out there.

\-----

**TO: ** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**FROM:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**SUBJ:** Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

God, you’re not gonna fucking believe what I just saw. Caught it on feed #6. Look at this shit. When I said he was a father figure to her I didn’t mean the “fuck me, Daddy!” kind. Ugh. I also didn’t expect _ Nox _ would be the one yelling it…

-C

**TO:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**FROM:** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**SUBJ:** RE: Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

I TOLD YOU. You owe me 1800AC.

I also told you that setting up surveillance in the locker room was a fucking stupid idea. Nobody ever uses it except the ones who need a more discreet place to fuck each other than those tiny little bedrooms that are all squished together. Unlike you, I don’t need to physically _ see _ people fucking to know that they are. It’s called making inferences. And I inferred correctly, just like I have about Park and Witt.

Guess you might have been right about Nox losing his edge, though. And I thought you said we were supposed to call him _ Caustic. _

-J

**TO: ** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**FROM:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**SUBJ:** RE: RE: Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

Fuck you, I’m never going to unsee this.

And it’s _ Kim, _ not Park, Mr. Young. For now, at least. We need more proof. Though I do wish the fucker hadn’t found the camera in the kitchen and the common room so fast. Kid’s barely been here ten minutes and he’s already a pain in my ass.

Witt is fucking everyone, it doesn’t take video evidence to figure that out. Caustic and the girl, though…can’t say I expected that. She’s a wildcard, that one.

**TO:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**FROM:** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**SUBJ:** RE: RE: Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

Yeah, his name’s Kim, and I’m the fucking CEO of Hammond Robotics. Oh wait, no I’m not.

You and your damn proof. The proof is in the shit Witt posts on social media. I caught a glimpse of that drone in a few of the pictures he posted this week. Pictures he posted from his bedroom. Tell me, how many other legends’ bedrooms do you think Kim is hanging out in? Dude’s about as friendly as your shiny new murderbot, and half as cuddly.  
  
Speaking of which – listen, I need you guys to do something about the effect your fucking Terminator is having on the ship’s electronics. The lights keep flickering and I don’t think Park/Kim/whatever is going to stop tearing maintenance panels off the walls until he figures out why. The last thing we need is those two talking tech support. Right now he wants to kill it. Let’s try to keep it that way. Christ, let them kill each other and you’ve hit two birds with one stone. If anything can take that hunk of metal down for good, it’s “Kim.”  
  
You know they all call him Park half the time, right? Shit, _ you’re _ the one watching them, what gives? He says it’s his middle name. I don’t believe that shit for a second. It wasn’t anywhere on his application, either.

You guys making any progress on the portals?

**TO: ** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**FROM:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**SUBJ:** RE: RE: Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

Well, since you asked, Blasey came to his room once, back in October. Pretty sure Kim was in hers the other night, but it was hard to see from the feed in the hallway. We don’t have clearance to set up surveillance in the bedrooms yet. But thanks to the one in the locker room, if Kim or the scientist start getting in the way, we know precisely which weak spots to hit, now don’t we? A very valuable tool indeed, if you’re right about Kim’s identity. Which you are not. Do you seriously think Tae Joon Park is going to join the Games and start dating the biggest loudmouth on the squad (besides Silva, obviously)? I don’t think so. He might as well plaster his full name right on the collar of that dumb fucking jacket.

I don’t know why you’re upset Kim’s occupied driving himself mad over the lights. Distracted is exactly how we want him. Besides, I don’t think we have to worry. He’ll take one look at the Hammond logo on that thing’s hand and run for the fucking hills. He doesn’t know it’s…operating independently. As far as he knows, the assassination was product placement. I mean, who the fuck looks at that thing and thinks “potential ally” and not “kill it with fire”? Like you said, all he’s getting if he tries to get close to the thing is a short-circuited optical implant and a hole put through his chest. I’m more worried about it getting cozy with the MRVN. Have you seen how fucking fast that thing is?

Speaking of product placement…you guys decided how we’re spinning this yet? The interview, I mean. Really don’t want half the Outlands losing it because their favorite legends are now sharing the arena with Rev.

And no, of course not. Kim fucking encrypted his copy of the blueprints, Blasey’s suddenly acting all weird about it. Dunno what her fucking problem is, she was happy enough to take that money back in October. Maybe we spooked her. If they’d just let us set up surveillance in the bedrooms…ugh, we’ll get clearance eventually. 

This “Terminator” isn’t the only centuries-old relic I have to babysit, Mr. Young. Dragging ass back to KC to use Singh’s lab is a pain, half the time the fucking thing doesn’t even work. Heads are about to roll over that, so warn your buddies in Engineering. They want that portal running reliably, ASAP. Haven’t heard from our associates on the other end since November. We can’t keep waiting for them to get their shit together. Fuck knows if they’re even alive, honestly. That dimension is incredibly unstable. But we need 722. It’s our only insurance policy in regards to the “murder robot” you keep complaining about. It will want to tear that thing limb from artificial limb, and it’s strong enough to be able to. At the very least, it’ll keep him occupied long enough for us to figure something else out.

Have you seen Park’s wanted poster? Kim looks nothing like that guy. Frankly, his drone is a thousand times better than the ones Park was designing for us. And again, fucking look at the guy. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t have a Teflon throat or a chestful of SmartInk. Park looks like he’d cry if you poked him with a needle, let alone with a scalpel. Kim looks like he’d like it.

**TO:** AMACCI, Cheryl; CAMMACI@hammond.synd  
**FROM:** YOUNG, Jacob; PRLegend@apex.com  
**SUBJ:** RE: RE: Warning - Not Fit for Human Eyes

You have got to be fucking kidding me. You guys are _ still _ on about that thing in the cave? Are you serious? Have you seen the damage it did on its way out of their facility over there? Holy fuck, it’s as bad as that Asshole Iron Man you’ve got shitting up the games. Worse, maybe. Almost killed the version of Paquette in that world, go look up the photos from the IA inquiry. I’m serious, it was a bigger bloodbath than that damn interview. That thing is fucking dangerous. Your boss is what’s incredibly unstable, shit. What happens once it’s killed your deathbot, and you have another angry, unoccupied murder-machine stalking around the arena? You need to rethink your strategy, I’m serious. This is fucking insane. It took them _ years _to clean up the mess that thing made over there. If they’re not responding on the other side, it’s probably because 722 killed the shit out of all of them. You couldn’t make me share an island with that thing for ten million AC.

As for the surveillance, it’s a matter of time ‘til Kim finds the last three cameras, anyway. Especially since you’re apparently fine with him ripping the ship apart over the lights. I’m serious, if he’s who I think (read: fucking know) he is, he’s not gonna stop until he figures it out. He’s that type. I thought you said that’s why you didn’t even bother bugging Witt’s boat. _ ‘Whether he’s our guy or not, Kim is fuckin’ thorough. We don’t wanna make him suspicious, blah blah fucking blah.’ _

And as far as the spin, trust me – when we think of something, you’ll be the first to know. We’re just letting the dust settle for now. That interview shot our ratings through the fucking _ roof. _ Kinda feel bad for that journalist though_… _ Anyway, maybe you should have thought about all this _ before _you put the immortal murder robot in the fucking Games. Just a thought.

**P.S.** Got a riddle for you, Cher. If the MRVN and your Terminator get in an arm-wrestling competition, who wins? I guess my money’s on the Revenant, but only ‘cause he’d cheat and fight dirty. Your killing machine seems like the type to bring a data knife to a robot-arm fight.

...you know that photo on Park’s wanted poster is like, six years old or something, right?

\----

A week later, it seems like the chaos has died down. 

For the most part, anyway. 

“Scared? Me? _ Pfft, _ no way! I, uh, t-totally love horrifying murder-bots. Who doesn’t, y’know?” Elliott asks, batting his eyelashes at the pretty journalist recording the interview. “I’m uh, d-definitely not fucking terrified of them or anyth–fuck, I keep thinking about the way it just…p-put its arm _ through _ him like that. Did you _ see _ that? It just fucking--it just…god, it’s all I can see when I close my eyes now. Like a human shish-kebab. Fuck, don’t print that. You’re not gonna print that, right? Shit, is this thing recording? Can I, um, c-can I retroactively make this interview off the record?”

The lights are still flickering constantly, still driving his boyfriend nuts, but his boyfriend is his boyfriend again, nobody’s seen the murderbot since Forge’s interview, and with his suit fixed and the decoy gone, Elliott’s finally starting to feel a little more relaxed, despite all the destruction on the map. The Syndicate insisted the changes were planned, but something about how fucked everything looks makes Elliott wonder if that's really the truth. 

A small crowd of onlookers has gathered outside the arena, probably just locals there to see what all the fuss was about.

From somewhere in the crowd, Elliott hears one screech _"NERF GIBBY!"_

  
  
_For fuckin' real. _

Something feels just a little bit off, though Elliott can't quite say what it is. But he has a brand new holosuit, and the red & gold armor is awesome, and he’s feeling pretty good about this new season. This season is his for the taking, a fresh start, and he’s going to kick some ass and forget about the murderbots and bloodsuckers that have plagued his dreams for the last three months or so. Talos is starting to feel a little less scary, a little more like home. It’s _not_ home, of course. But it feels like it is, and he has his own ship, and Hyeon has occasionally been letting “I love you” slip out of his mouth without Elliott having to say it first, which makes Elliott feel like he can conquer the whole damn universe.

Right now, however, he’s focused on conquering the arena. He just heard Pathfinder land somewhere nearby, and he’s determined to sneak up on the metallic motherfucker before it gets to him first. It’s the very first game of the season, and it must be his lucky day, because he got paired up with Hyeon and Renee.

He notices Hyeon do a flip in the air just before they land in Capitol City, which has been cracked in half by...something. An earthquake was what it had felt like when it happened, but some of the strange machinery surrounding this so-called planet harvester had him wondering if that was all there was to the story.

Dashing up the stairs of one of the abandoned skyscrapers, Elliott peers around the corner of a room on the third floor. He’s sure he heard Path clanging around inside, so he’s surprised to find the room empty. 

Empty of robots, at least. There’s a purple shield sitting near a window.

“Come to Daddy,” he says to no one in particular as he bends to snatch up the shield.

Before he can do that, though, the lights begin to flicker. Then they go out.

“Uh, that’s...n-not good…” he mumbles to himself, quickly grabbing the purple shield.

“No,” says a frighteningly deep, slightly familiar voice, chuckling dangerously. Elliott _ knows _ he’s heard it before, he just can’t remember where or when. “It’s not.”

Elliott immediately goes invisible, and not a moment too soon -- a split second later, the lights come back on, and Forge’s murderer stands inches away from him. It’s _looking_ at him, though, which doesn’t make any fucking sense, and shouldn’t be possible. But it is, apparently, and before he can hatch a plan, the thing has reached out and seized him by the throat.

Somehow, it’s deactivated his holographic camouflage.

_Well, at least I lived an exciting life, if not a very long one. _

\----

Renee snaps out of the Void and into the room on the third floor, and she’s met with a sight so horrifying that she can’t even scream. 

In the middle of the room stands The Thing That Killed Forge. It’s got Elliott by the throat, and it’s lifted him clean off the ground, like he weighs nothing. A strange, orangey electricity arcs down the arm holding Elliott, and she hears the unmistakable sound of the trickster’s shield being broken.

That’s not the scary part. Well, it is. But it’s not the _ scariest _ part.

The scariest part is that once she’s seen McCormick’s assassin up close, she recognizes it.

It’s the robot from her dream.

The one she was fucking.

_Oh god, what the fuck? _

\---

Park turns the corner just in time to see the murderous machine punch a hole through his boyfriend’s chest. 

Elliott’s dead before he hits the ground. The assassin drops him without a second thought, then it goes for Renee.

She’s fast, but it’s faster, and when she goes to use her phase-tech, a strange energy surrounds her arm. It’s orange and black, not blue, like it should be, and it must have disabled her armband, because she doesn’t slip into the Void to escape it. It snatches her up, just like Elliott, and Park _ knows _ he should move, but his legs are ignoring that order, because his brain has just caught up with his eyes, and he realizes the thing in front of him is the monster he’d been attempting to strangle in his dream the night he attacked Elliott in his sleep.

“What...w-what are you?” Renee gasps, clawing at the impossibly strong hand around her throat.

Park sees a few chips of red paint flake off under her nails, fluttering to the floor. The nightmarish thing tilts its head just slightly, as if considering her question.

“It’s just a bad dream,” it replies, but it’s not even watching her anymore, it’s staring right at Park as it speaks. “It’ll be over soon.”

Then, with an effortless flick of its wrist, it snaps her neck. 

The monster lets Renee’s broken body crumple to the floor, where it lands, limp, on top of Elliott’s deathbox.

Tae Joon is praying that it’s telling the truth -- that it’s just another bad dream -- because this absolutely cannot be fucking happening for real.

_...can it?_

The monster turns to face him, and he knows he's done for. A metal hand seizes his jaw, and for a moment, Park is sure he's looking into the face of Death itself.

The lights are flickering again, and the fight is over before it's even begun.

"Beg for your life," the robotic monstrosity sneers, towering over him. "It'll be good for both of us."

_Well, I'm dead._

_At least I finally know what the fuck is wrong with those stupid lights now. _

\-------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I laughed, I cried, I cried some more. Doing some of the shit I had to do in this chapter was SO hard emotionally, and I hope nobody hates me for it. Please let me know what you think in the comments. Do we like the texts/email transcripts, or are they annoying? Thoughts on Min and her surprise tattoo studio? Any favorite parts you particularly liked? Are you and the Rev currently plotting my death for the sins I have committed? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> As usual, I'm in a brainfried, post-publishing daze, so expect minor edits and fixes over the next ~48 hrs or so.
> 
> Also, I made [a tumblr.](holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com/) Feel free to pester me, I'm gonna go through my messages soon, it's just been a long month, lol. Thanks for the patience. So sorry this chapter took so long, but we're getting to the good part. I needed it to be just right, you know?
> 
> Love you guys.
> 
> P.S. Mirage kicking Crypto in the face in the gameplay trailer with his new finisher is a fucking #MOOD lmao. I screeched like a freshly-stabbed decoy when I saw that shit, y'all. I love this stupid fuckin' game.
> 
> Also idk why the line breaks are so fucked in this, they look normal in google docs. I'll fix it later, I can't even deal rn, lol.
> 
> Also, y'all don't know how long I've been dying to shoehorn that "you got a bug, lemme fix it" quip into this story, holy fuck. I'm sure you can imagine my unbridled glee when I listened to all of Revenant's quips on YouTube this morning and discovered he references dreams/nightmares a few times.
> 
> NEXT TIME, on _Oh My Fucking God, How is She Still Writing This Shit?:_ Renee has an interview with a vampire, and faces a side of herself she never wanted to see. Park and Min search for answers. Elliott gets dangerously close to the truth.


	12. Ghost in the Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What the hell is wrong with this one? Seriously!_  
  
He’s met skinsuits that like to ride the fine line between pain and pleasure, but not like this. Not most of them, anyway. And the few that wanted him to make them bleed were already impaled on an enormous metal dick when they begged for it, and thus probably not thinking particularly clearly.
> 
> How else do you explain that shit? Skinsuits aren’t supposed to _like_ bleeding.
> 
> It’s not being held against the wall by its throat anymore, the skinsuit could run. Or have the decency to try, at least. But the drone pilot makes no move to escape, just watches the Spectre’s face with fascination as it fingerpaints with his blood and stares back, gazing at the mess it’s making of his chest with equal fascination.
> 
> “You don’t want to kill me,” the skinsuit says softly, and it isn’t a threat -- it’s stated neutrally, like it’s an undeniable scientific fact. “You _wish_ you wanted to kill me. But you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup, skinsuits? I know you've all been concerned about your author's recent absence, but she's been dealing with some stupid skinsuit shit IRL. Don't worry, I've got her locked in the house and I'm not letting her leave until my story is done. As a reward for being such patient little fleshbags, you're getting three chapters over the next 24 hours.
> 
> She keeps fucking it up, though. So I decided to help her edit these chapters, to make sure she gets my story straight. Plus I type way faster. 85WPM, what a fuckin' joke. Try 8500WPM, skinsuit.
> 
> Anyway, chill the fuck out, she's fine. 
> 
> P.S.: You guys need some good tunes. The (un)Official Spider Byte Soundtrack can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuzlshbuNvtbkdZJCgNOmkCin2PW-mCfR). Don't blame me for all the holo-idiot's pop and all that weird electronic shit Park listens to. I'm only responsible for the actual music, AKA hip-hop and hard rock. Christ, these skinsuits have terrible taste.
> 
> P.P.S.: _FINE, woman. Jesus!_ Your author is making me give you pussy ass bitches a trigger warning. Fucking skinsuits, I swear. Alright, here goes -- TW for the next THREE chapters: BLOOD AND STUFF. Lots of it. Like, more than you skinsuits are used to. Body horror, both robotic and organic. References to rape, internalized homophobia, and sex trafficking. Light (read: AWESOME) drug use. Several poorly-negotiated moments of kinkiness (give me a fuckin' break, okay? I was designed to kill people, not cuddle them. Fuck's sake.) Anyway, uhhh, what am I missing? Oh, right. Mind control. Also, this is probably gonna have formatting issues that will have to be fixed manually over the next day or so, as usual, because humans suck at efficiency. You've been fuckin' warned, skinsuits. 
> 
> _Fuck OFF. I am not putting "robotic suicidal ideation" on this trigger list, skinsuit! Machines do not get suicidal, and they absolutely do not need THERAPY. You're so lucky I can't kill your ass until you've finished my story, ugh. You might be low on my list, but you're still fuckin' on it. Don't forget that._

Let me guess: you’re surprised they let me into the Games.

Quick question: Why are you surprised? Friends close, enemies closer. 

Everybody keeps asking me what I am. Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m the king of the fuckin’ canyon, baby. 

A more efficient killing machine has never existed. Humans waste time eating and sleeping and shitting and crying and dying and all that other skinsuit bullshit, but not me. Do you have  _ any  _ idea how many people you can kill when you don’t need to eat and only need two hours of sleep mode each night? Sheeeeit. What are they gonna do, tell me no? Ha. You’d be amazed what skinsuits will let you get by with when they’ve got a metal hand wrapped around their throat. 

They’re terrified of me.  _ All _ of them. They look in my eyes and there’s nothing but their own fear staring back. I’ve been to hell, I’ve looked for heaven, and I’ll tell you another fun little secret: When you make your way to the big pearly gates and look upon your God’s throne, guess what? I’ve seen it. It’s fuckin’  _ empty. _ There's no afterlife, no creator, just silence. Ain’t that a bitch?   
  


Hell is empty, too. 

All the devils are here.   
  


\-------

"Oh my godddddd, that is so fucking hotttt, I'm gonna fucking diiiiiiiiiiie," Elliott whines. "You realize how lucky you are, right? Do you know how many guys would give their left nut just to breathe Renee's air? You get to bang the prettiest guy  _ and _ the prettiest girl on this ship-slash-planet! Lucky bastard."

Hyeon smiles a small smile. "So you're not... you're not mad?"

Elliott groans.

"Mad? God, baby, do we  _ really _ have to go over this  _ again? _ For, like, the five-gazillionth time?"

Hyeon looks down at his hands, then shoves him in his pockets, saying nothing. Elliott sighs, exasperated.

"Alright, fine, here we go:  _ YES, _ I am still  _ very fucking aroused _ by the idea of you banging my super-hot BFF and  _ NO, _ I am not mad about it. Mad I didn't get to personally witness it, maybe, but I think I'm gonna live," he insists. 

Hyeon doesn't look up, but he's blushing. Elliott saunters over to where his boyfriend sits, on the edge of their bed on the Boyfriend Boat, which is  _ definitely _ what they are calling it, despite Hyeon's obvious mortification at the ship’s nickname. 

Or, perhaps, because of it.

_ 'You're just lucky I'm not calling it The Blowjob Boat,' _ Elliott had told him once, giggling at Hyeon's humiliated groan.

"Hey," Elliott says, reaching out to tilt that pretty face up, so he can properly look into his eyes. 

Hyeon hums, leaning into the trickster's hand and letting his eyes fall shut, so he can’t.

"Look at me," Elliott murmurs. "Please."

Hyeon opens his eyes, fixing his gaze on Elliott.

"God, you are so fuckin' handsome. It's kind of unfair," Elliott sighs, struck for the millionth time by his lover's effortless, endless beauty.

_ Ugh, I love him so freaking much. _

Hyeon's cheeks have gone rather pink again.

"Now that? That I'm jealous of. Like, I have to get up every morning and actually  _ try _ to be pretty, you wake up looking like--like--" he stammers; it's hard to find the words. "Like a fuckin' supermodel, babe."

Hyeon snorts.

"You may need your eyesight examined,  _ jagiya." _

Elliott gives him a playful shove. "I'm serious, though. You're beautiful. Like somebody genetically engineered you to drive me fuckin' wild."

Elliott can feel the heat emanating from Hyeon's cheeks when he reaches out to stroke his pretty face again.

"I mean it," Elliott murmurs, much more quietly. "You're beautiful, baby. Way too hot to keep to myself, that's for sure. I meant it when I said I don't mind sharing. I love you no matter who you're fucking, as long as I'm still on the list."

Hyeon grins, pulling Elliott down to straddle his hips. 

"You are  _ always _ on the list,  _ nae sarang." _

\----

Park rubs at the eye with the optical implant. He can feel a headache building; he's been staring at holoscreen for hours. It's worth it, though. Setting up a program to search death records for certain keywords (words like "Hammond’s murder robot") didn't take long. Combing through every suspicious death record that fit the description over the last hundred or so years? Yeah, that fucking takes a while. Especially if you’re a skinsuit and can’t just download the data directly into your memory.

Still, it’s worth the headache.

Because now he's not working on a hunch any more. Now he has a hypothesis. He’s typing frantically into the text box of the anonymized instant messaging platform, eagerly awaiting each of Min’s responses.

**TJ:** This thing is way older than I realized. There are some randoms mixed in, but it seems like that gets less common as the years progress. If he's killed any non-Syndicate personnel in the last 15ish years, I can't find any proof of it. 

**M: ** Shit, really? That's...I guess it sort of makes sense? With that shit from the inquiry with the guy saying the Spectre said some shit about a list. Like, a hitlist. Or shitlist. Or whater.

**M: ** I mean, serial killers have patterns, right? Can't get their jollies off unless certain circumstances are met. Maybe this guy isn't satisfied unless they're Syndicate. Maybe he has a pattern and doesn't like to deviate.

**TJ:** Yeah, but he doesn't have a pattern. That's what makes it so odd. At first he's killing all these random targets, doesn't give a fuck. But then during the War, it just...stops. He kills this Andrande guy and then no more civilians. After over two centuries. Two days later his first Syndicate target goes down. 

**TJ:** I just don't get it. Why would they send him after their own people? I mean, maybe they needed them disposed of, but these aren't your average grunts. He's taking out billionaires and overpaid assholes with big metal arms. On live TV, no less. Not easy to get away with. Maybe the Syndicate’s having some sort of internal...leadership conflict, or something. I don’t know.

**M:** What if they're not?

**TJ:** Not what?

**M: ** Not sending him after those people. What if the Syndicate isn't in control of this thing anymore?

**TJ:** Interesting theory…

**M:** Think about it, you spend almost 300 years doing someone else's dirty work, then, idk, you meet a cute guy with synthetic skin and he takes a look at your programming, fixes your shit. Or maybe you get whacked in the head real hard, knocks something loose. Makes you realize what you've done. Maybe that pisses you off. Or maybe you're just like that MRVN Elliott hates, the friendly one with the emojis and shit. Maybe you don't know a damn thing, you're just looking for your creator...and this is what you find. Discovering you were created by these assholes would give you some serious Daddy Issues.

**M:** You can't die. You literally have all the time in the world to kill. Who's your first target? The skinsuits that have been using you all these years.

**TJ: ** Min, it's a machine. I don't think it's programmed to seek revenge. Or have “Daddy Issues.” I hope.

**M:** Bullshit. I'd bet the contents of my bank account it's one of those Simulacrum things 

**M:** (admittedly, the contents of my bank account are not particularly impressive). 

**M:** Hammond was getting a ton of bad press from those things way back in the day. You KNOW they didn't stop their bullshit, they just got better at hiding it and started making their robo-killers look a little more human. 

**M: ** I'm serious. Listen to the way that thing talks. Look at how it moves (when it's not doing that fucked up shoulder-out-of-socket thing, urgh), look past that freaky skull face, look at the shit coming out of its mouth. He uses contractions, slang, informal human speech -- constantly. Even more than your buddy with the grappling hook, and for a while I’ve wondered if there’s a person in that thing, too. But seriously, when was the last time a synthetic with no human components called you a “sweaty little skinsuit.” It’s a fucking machine, like you said. It should be programmed for politeness, or neutrality. At the very least, it shouldn’t be operating in Douchebag Mode by default.

**M: ** Anyway, I'm calling it. That thing may be made of metal, but there's something squishy on the inside. There is a fucking person in there, mark my words. Or a ghost or some shit, idfk, but it was a person at one point. You don't seriously think the Syndicate was sending some standard-issue model out to kill the folks they were afraid to kill in person, do you? Hell no. Dat bitch has fancy, custom-made skewering arms. I mean come TF on. That killin’ arm is way more complex than that idiot Forge’s arm was, and his arm (it’s not even really an arm, it’s a gauntlet. Guess he didn’t wanna lose the real thing. Pussy.) was manufactured within the last century. If they were willing to shell out for that stabbing arm in 2445, I’d imagine the Revenant is an asset they’re not ready to lose, even now. Though it seems like he already lost them, lmao.

**M:** Seriously, though. That’s the only reason they haven’t literally dropped a bomb on this thing yet. I mean, it has to be, right? Everything has an off switch. That rez totem has to run on some sort of power. You telling me it’s magic? You telling me after 300 years, the Syndicate still doesn’t know how to power it off?

**M:** Helloooo?

Park’s attention snaps back to the chat window. It’s difficult paying attention and keeping his thoughts organized with so much going on. There are so many fascinating possibilities, and he wants to follow every thread of new information right to its source.

**TJ: ** Shit, Min. I think you're right.

**TJ:** You are a freaking genius.

**M:** So I've been told. 

**M: ** But yeah, how fucked would that be? Can you imagine being trapped inside that thing for 300 years? Shit. I wanted to be all angsty and pissed at this guy after what he did to Mom, but now I kind of feel bad for him.

**TJ:** Don’t. It doesn’t process emotions the same way we do.

**TJ: ** I'm going to try and run some diagnostics on this thing. Discreetly, I hope. If I suddenly stop replying, it's probably safe to assume I was detected and promptly run through with that crazy arm blade.

**M:** Fuck, be careful. We dunno anything about naughtybot over here for real. I was just guessing. 

**TJ: ** You're telling me. 

\--

**M: ** Any luck?

**TJ: ** Nope. Whoever accessed it (him?) last definitely didn't want anyone else getting in. This might take a while. I need to find a workaround. 

**M:** What's he like in real life? Is he as scary as he looks on TV?

**TJ:** God, no.

**TJ:** He is ten times scarier than he looks on TV.

**M:** LOL seriously. He can't be that bad if he hasn't killed any of you guys yet. Killed you for real I mean. He fucking wiped the floor with you guys in that first match lmao.

**TJ:** Don't remind me.

**M:** What's he like on the ship? I can't imagine having that thing in the room next to mine. I'll move to that crazy dimension you guys went to for Halloween before I set foot in a dropship with that fucking thing.

**TJ:** He's not all that awful, as long as you don't try to interact with him. Or look at him. Or breathe in his general vicinity. 

**TJ: ** He's INSUFFERABLE in the ring. Unbelievably bossy. Always as rude as (in)humanly possible, even when I'm on his team. A living fucking nightmare when I'm not.

**M:** I bet. Lisa said they pretty much have to censor ⅔ of what comes out of his mouth to appease the network. HQ has been riding them pretty hard since the whole murder-on-live-TV thing went down. 

**M:** Kind of hilarious tbh. It's a bloodsport, who cares if he drops a few F-bombs?

**TJ:** You don't understand. Some of the shit that comes out of this thing's mouth is...unfit for human ears.

**M:** ooooh, like what?

**TJ:** Nope.

**M:** Lame. You're no fun.

**TJ: ** That pretty little decoy doesn't seem to agree with you. (;

**M:** OMFG. You slut.

**TJ:** Not my fault. You encouraged it. 

**M:** Okay, you got me there.

**M:** So does it have a dick?

**TJ:** ...the decoy? Yes, I thought that much was obvious…

**M:** No, you dumb fuck. The robot.

**TJ:** Oh.

**TJ:** It wears this sort of...loin cloth thing. It obviously has some sort of loins to clothe. Anyway, I don't know, and I'm fairly certain I do not ever wish to find out. 

**M:** Oh come on. Big bad robot, crazy old-as-fuck rez-tech, hates the Syndicate and oh, yeah, is hunting them down one by one? You're not even a LITTLE bit interested?

Park groans, covering his face with a SynthSkyn palm. She’s right of course. Park is very, _ very  _ interested. Which is stupid, and fucking dangerous.

**TJ:** Interested in what, getting staked through the heart by a stabby deathbot arm? No, but thanks for asking. I'd be better off fucking the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. Much safer.

**TJ:** I think I'm good on shit trying to kill me for the rest of ever, tbh. Had my fill. You sound interested though. :P 

**M:** lol you know I'm not. That thing doesn’t have the, uh...right equipment...for my personal tastes.

**M:** You should offer to fix him. Then reprogram that chip on his shoulder and make his stabby arms so they can only do teeny little chopsticks.

**TJ:** Fix him? I can't even run diagnostics. I'm also 99.98% certain his response would be something along the lines of "get fucked, skinsuit."

**M:** Yeah, get fucked. By the robot. That's the idea.

**TJ:** 🤦♂️

**TJ: ** I hate you so much.

**M:** What? Come on, TJ. We both know you have a metal fetish.

**TJ:** You know, on second thought, I'm just going to let him kill me.

**M:** Yeah. With that big ol' killer robot dick.

**TJ:** Nope, nevermind, brb while I kms. 

**M:** 🤖🍆💦💦💦💀

**TJ:** You are the WORST, Min.

**M:** 🤷♀️😈

**TJ:** 🏳️🙃🔫⚰️✌️

\----

Now you want to know what it feels like, being stuck in here. Of course you do. 

Fuckin’ skinsuits and their fuckin’ curiousity. 

  
  
I’ll tell you what it feels like. It feels like you’ve forgotten something. Something terribly important, you’re sure, but you can’t quite remember what it is. It’s that little niggling feeling in the back of your head, like an itch that’s just begging to be scratched, but you can’t quite reach it. It’s slowly driving you insane.

(You don’t  _ actually _ know what scratching an itch feels like, of course. You’re just guessing.)

  
  
_ Was it the bacon? Did I forget to put it back in the fridge? Shit, maybe I left the door unlocked, or left without turning off the burner. Did I remember to shave this morning? _

_ Did I forget I’m a three-hundred year old murderbot? _

_ (Did I forget that I used to be one of them, a skinsuit?) _

You touch your jaw, and it’s smooth, so it’s not the shaving. You probably just left the door unlocked. Oh well.

But it bothers you all day and all night, every minute. Even after you’ve returned home to discover that the door to your penthouse is locked up tight.

(You can feel it even when you’re slicing through the skinsuits.)

  
  
Some of them are kind of pretty. For skinbags, anyway. That only makes it more satisfying when you take them apart.

(“Beg for your life. It’s good for both of us.”)

You’re starting to worry, though. Is it something awful, what you’ve done? Did you make some grave mistake, take down the wrong target, or is it something that goes deeper?

There’s a voice in your head, and he’s screaming, begging you to remember, but the voice is so distant, it sounds so far away, and you just can’t quite recall the reason for the begging. You hate hearing it, though. It’s weak. Pathetic. 

Human.

(It feels like some sort of bug, like one of your memories’ save files is corrupted. Like a very important part of you has been purged from the recycling bin, and you’re never getting it back. Like a virus infiltrating your system and hijacking your brain.)

There’s this restless feeling that resonates at the base of your skull, and you can almost feel the spot in your head where the thing you forgot used to reside. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. 

(No it isn’t. You don’t have one.)   
  


Once you know the truth, it only gets worse.

  
  
Because once your mind has recovered from the aggressive fucking that is looking into a mirror and seeing a skull staring back at you with glowing yellow eyes, that little feeling still doesn’t go away. The dreams don’t stop, they get  _ worse _ \-- and they’re not even fucking dreams, actually, because murderbots don’t _ have _ dreams. 

They’re memories, but they’re not. They’re the skeletal remains of your life as a skinsuit, the leftovers of your humanity, punctuated with little fragments of the sins you’ve committed since becoming immortal. They chase you every night when you power down to recharge, and it’s even worse when you’ve been killed, and you’re floating in the space between life and death, waiting to be forced back through the portal to the world of the living.

  
  
The dreams, if you can even call them that, never go away.

  
  
They just change.   
  


A face still chases you, but it’s not the skull. That face you’ve grown used to, and it doesn’t even faze (phase? Ha.) you anymore. No, this is a new face. A handsome one, for a skinsack. Pretty blond hair that’s just a little too perfect. Ice-blue eyes that are cold and unfeeling.

  
  
Until you get stabbed in the back.

  
  
Then there’s fear in those eyes, there’s weakness, humanity, and it fucking _ terrifies _ you.

  
  
The fear itself is the scariest part of it all.

The dreams show you little glimpses of what was emptied from that recycling bin.

Work. Killing. Cashing that sweet, sweet bounty check. All the earthly pleasures that come with being the very best at what you do.

  
  
The other skinsacks want you. They want to fuck you. They want to kill you. They wish they had your job. They wish they could  _ handle _ your job. They want to earn your favor. Few ever do.

  
  
(So instead, they take you out. Out of the picture. Entirely.)

  
  
It takes more than one of them, of course. It isn’t a fair fight. 

  
  
(Then again, it never is a fair fight when the Syndicate’s involved. But it’s supposed to be  _ you _ with the upper hand.)   
  


You’re not exactly sure how many there are. Five, at least. Your list of mortal enemies is kind of long, and none of them hate you more than those who envy your position. Like it’s  _ your _ fault they were too weak to be selected as the vessel.   


  
(Blood. Red blood melting white snow. Blood soaking into sun-warmed sand. A blade in your back. Pain. Cold air sucking through the recently-acquired holes in your chest and neck. Then there is only darkness. Darkness and sweet, sweet silence.)

  
  
Then you wake up. 

Shower, shave, eat. 

(You weren’t really doing any of those things.)

You cut yourself shaving.

(Lie. It’s not blood. It’s chipped paint.)

Kill. Cash the check. Fuck the prettiest one that will have you.

Live. Die. Live. Die.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

What? You said you wanted a story. Well here’s your fucking narrative, skinsuit: me, shattering an enormous TV screen in a very fancy restaurant with your delightfully-crunchable little skull, then polishing said screen with the skin from the side of your face until I can see some of that skull on the outside of you. See? Now we match! Twinsies.

Aww, c’mon, skinbag. What’s the matter? I read you your bedtime story. Now it’s time for you to sleep. You’re gonna have the best sleep of (what little is left of) your life once I’m done with you. It’ll be the last sleep of your life, too. And you, you lucky little shit, will never wake up again.   
  


(Truly, I’m a little jealous of you, there. Some of us aren’t blessed with mortality.)

‘Night ‘night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the spiders byte.

\-----

Even though it’s repulsive, fucking a skinsuit, that’s not the part of the dreams that really bothers you. Afterall, you still indulge from time to time, even now. But it’s always with another synthetic.   
  
Almost always.   
  
And on the (very) rare occasion you take a skin to the sack (ha.), it’s only ever the ones that are mostly-synthetic. It’s only ever the ones with an obvious flair for self-destruction and self-reconstruction, the ones who want to rise from the ashes of their weak, useless skinsuits and try to become something slightly less pathetic. If you have to fuck a skinsuit, you prefer the ones with less organic skin than average.   
  
And it’s only because you enjoy it. Not the fucking, obviously. You could  _ never _ enjoy fucking a skinsuit. You can’t feel it, anyway, and when you cum, there is no sensation, just a flood of excess coolant fluid dripping from whatever fleshy orifice your metal dick is buried in.    
  
No, you don’t enjoy fucking the skinsuits. You just enjoy watching them war with themselves. Watching them try to decide if the potential pleasure is worth the inherent risk. Watching them try to decide if satisfying their curiosity about what lies beneath your loincloth is worth potentially becoming the next victim to satisfy your lust for blood.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” the skinsacks like to tell themselves.   
  
It’s just another human lie.   
  
What they really mean to say is “curiosity killed the skinsuit.” It always fucking does.

And there is  _ always _ a curious one.    
  
For a while, you wonder if it was easier in the skinsuit, luring them. You can’t really remember, but you assume it was. It was certainly the kind of suit that would have made you popular among the vain, weak, disgusting animals, but you can’t know for sure -- kind of hard to remember something when it’s been wiped from your hard drive. It comes back to you in little flashes, in your (not-)dreams or when you take an especially brutal blow to the head. But after a time you realize that no, it’s even  _ easier _ in this body. 

If anything demonstrates human weakness, it’s the fact that it’s easier to get laid as a fucking murderbot than it was as a pretty (by skinsuit standards) fleshbag.   
  
When you arrive on Talos, your first job is to observe. Skinsuits are notoriously loose-lipped, as they haven’t yet evolved to a point where they can be programmed to shut the fuck up. Though you certainly have the time to wait for that dream to become a reality, you absolutely do  _ not  _ have the patience.   
  
They’re even more loose-lipped when you’ve finished fucking their mouths, or when their tiny little brains are short-circuiting with the intensity of their orgasm. They’re all so fucking _ weak, _ all of them. It’s rare that you even find one worth fucking to begin with.

(Worth fucking for the  _ intel, _ obviously. Not because you enjoy it. You can’t even  _ feel _ it, and you can only enjoy one thing: Killing.)   
  
Well, and the begging. And of course, the tears.   
  
(If you do enjoy the fucking -- which you  _ definitely do not --  _ it’s only because it brings you both in equal measure. On good nights, you get begging, tears, and screaming, too.)   
  
But you definitely, absolutely do  _ not  _ enjoy the fucking.

(Mostly.)   
  
You don’t kill the ones you fuck. 

(Well, not usually. Shit happens sometimes.) 

You also don’t fuck the ones you kill once they’re dead. The skinsuits LOVE to ask this question, and it’s annoying to the point that you’re beginning to wonder if perhaps you should reconsider, and make an exception for the next idiot journalist who asks...   
  
(The only thing less appealing than a skinsuit is a skinsuit who won’t beg for your dick or cry when you force it to cum for the sixth time that night. Come on. Fucking a dead skinsuit would be boring as fuck.)

Skins are all useless, but it’s a complicated kind of useless where if they’ve already decided you’re going to kill them, they’ll sometimes choose to take their secrets to the grave. Their squishy little brains aren’t like hard drives. Once you disconnect the power, that shit is gone for good, any secrets you desperately needed to know disappear when the light leaves their eyes. When you’re trying to hunt down those secrets to fill in the blanks in your memory files, that’s kind of a let-down.    
  
(Y’know, like cumming and not being able to feel it. Also kind of a let-down.) 

(You deeply wish the person responsible for that particular part of your programming wasn’t 200+ years dead before you figured out what the fuck they’d done to you.)   
  
Your preferred method of interrogation has always been to torture and kill, of course, but once they’re dead, they’re no longer of use to you. Some of them are more fun alive.

(Okay, okay,  _ all _ of them are more fun alive. Some of them just need to be alive for less time than others. That’s where you come in.)

You’ve never forced anything on a skinsuit except your forearm through their chest. Why the fuck would you? It’s not like you enjoy the fucking. Rape is just another disgusting property of skinbags, perpetrated by the very weakest of them, driven by a pathetic craving that you do not experience. It’s something  _ very _ few robots are programmed to do. Many robots are designed to  _ be _ raped, however. It makes you shudder just thinking about it. You’ve been a slave before, programmed to obey. But not like that.

(Or if you were, you certainly can’t remember it. Those were always the memories they ripped out of you first: the ones chronicling their sins.)   
  
And why would you ever want to force one, when the skinbags already come to you willingly? Why would you ever waste valuable processing power taking one against their will when it’s  _ so _ much more satisfying to fuck the ones who will have no one but themselves to blame the next morning? The look on their faces when they come back to their senses, when they recover from the rush of endorphins and have to face what they’ve done, admit to themselves that they fucked a monster and  _ loved _ it -- it’s delicious. Figuratively delicious. You’re not exactly sure what “delicious” is like in the literal sense, what with the tongue situation. 

You’re always sure to make a grand exit -- from the bed, up the wall, across the ceiling, like a giant metal spider. The look on their faces is always delicious then, too, when they’re watching you climb out their window and scale the side of their apartment building at a frightening speed, moving with a sort of graceful violence that terrifies them. It shows all over their face, every time. They’re thinking, _‘oh_ _god, did I really just fuck that?’_  
  
_Yeah, skinsuit. You really just did._

You don’t even have to fucking try. That’s another thing about humans and their precious curiosity -- to the skins, it’s a fuckin’ aphrodisiac. They stare from across the bar, giving you the  _ ‘fuck me’ _ eyes -- which you, of course, ignore. They chug a few beers and try to work up the sack (ha. ha.) to approach the seven-foot-tall killing machine. That part always takes a while. They’re sweating when they finally get the nerve. They’re terrified of you. They always are.   
  
What flaw in their programming, then, causes them to ignore all self-preservation protocols and put one foot in front of the other until they’re standing in front of you, shaking? What makes them swallow their fear long enough to swallow your metal cock? What makes them crawl  _ willingly _ into the bed of Death himself? Why, it’s that pesky human curiosity, of course.

(So no, you do not  _ force _ them, though you  _ do _ enjoy forcing your arm blade through the dicks of the ones that do.)

(They always beg the most pathetically, covered in cold sweat and spewing lies, any excuse they can think of. “You don’t understand! That android wanted it, really!”)   
  
( _ Of course she fucking ‘wanted it,’ skinsuit. You programmed her to, because you’re so repulsive even the other fleshbags won’t fuck you. _ )   
  
Back to curiosity, though -- that’s how you get information. That’s why you can walk into any bar anywhere on any fucking planet and there will  _ always _ be one that, for whatever reason -- curiousity or just suicidal tendendies, you can never quite tell -- approaches you and opens their mouth to ask the stupidest question ever:   
  
“Can I buy you a drink?”   
  
“You can buy  _ you _ a drink, since of the two of us, you’re the only one who can drink it.”

  
If there are any fleshy animals worth fucking (again, for  _ intel. _ Obviously.) on this godforsaken shithole of a planet, you’re sure this is where they’d be. The bar is full of synthetics, even the human bartender has a metal arm, and it’s so similar to your own, that for once,  _ you’re _ the one that’s curious. Still, she’s got a little too much organic skin for your liking, so you set your sights on one of the patrons.

Well, ‘setting your sights’ might be an exaggeration. It’s not like you have to actually  _ do _ anything. Somehow, the curious ones always find their way to you.   
  
Their pretty little friend with the red hair and green eyes, unfortunately, does not seem curious. Just repulsed. They shoot you a  _ very _ dirty look as you let their Stimmed-up little friend lead you out the door.   
  
There are always so many stupid questions.   
  
“You got a name,  _ amigo?” _   
  
“Not really.”   
  
“Weird name,” he says with a cheeky grin that makes you wonder if he’ll still be smiling later with your hand around his neck. “Hey, that’s cool, I don’t judge!”   
  
There’s an awkward silence. For approximately three seconds.   
  
“You gonna show me what’s under that loincloth,  _ Papi? _ Or you gonna make me work for it?”   
  


They always wanna know what’s under the loincloth. That’s why you wear it. Doesn’t make them curious if you show your hand early.

  
\---

Ah, yes. Boners. Another skinsack weakness that you do not share.

You can get them, of course, but only when you wish to, and they work like the armblade -- only on your order. It’s a command, just another part of your programming, not an involuntary response to sexual desire. You don’t experience sexual desire. You were programmed to desire one thing: Death. Your own, and the skinsacks’. The dick is just there to make intel collection go easier, it’s not for your enjoyment. 

It is  _ very _ persuasive, however.   
  
This particular skinsack is annoying you. He never shuts up, never stops talking. He absolutely refuses to hold still. You’re going to show him how.   
  
_ “Agh,  _ fuck,  _ please!” _ He sobs in Spanish. 

You can only tell it’s Spanish because his accent gets a little thicker when he switches to his mother tongue, but it’s all been translated to English once it hits your “ears.” Universal translator -- probably leftover from your days as a human. You really only turn it on when you’re fucking them, though. That’s the only time you’re interested in listening to a skinsack, and it’s only because they’re giving you all the answers you wanted, which is the only reason you’re here, behind this bar full of synths and half-sacks, fucking this hyperactive little idiot into the wall of the building.   
  
“Fuck, this is so wrong!” the little idiot cries in his mother tongue, unaware that you just understood every word.

_ Hahaha. Ain’t it though? _   
  
Robot senses work a little different from skinsacks’. There are a lot of bilinguals (and trilinguals, for that matter) in the Outlands, and those are your favorite to fuck, because it’s easy to tell when you’re on the right track. Skinsacks almost always fall back to their mother tongue when you’re doing something they like enough to beg for, or reveal classified information for. You’d be amazed what a meatbag will tell you when you’re dangling the promise of orgasm before them, like a horse to a carrot on a stick.   
  
Your dick is the carrot. 

(A retractable, stainless steel carrot. At least it’s not copper-plated. Nobody wants to suck a coppery-tasting dick.)

(Your mouth _ is _ copper-plated, though. The few skins brave enough to go in for a kiss always end up regretting it, especially if there’s tongue involved, because then they realize you don't have one. That always freaks them out. They taste the copper like it’s blood and when their tongue slips past your cold, hard lips, and they gasp and recoil when they realize you don’t have one.)

(That’s another long-dead skinsack you wish you could resurrect just to murder again yourself: whoever decided to give you a mouth with no tongue. Or give you a mouth at all, for that matter. Why? Why would they do that? And why can you  _ taste _ the copper plating in your mouth? What sick fuck decided on  _ that _ little feature?)

You always turn the translator on when you fuck them. They awlways switch back to whatever language they learned first and either spill something they didn’t want you to hear, or tell you that the thing you’re doing is the thing that’s going to make them cum. Then you know not to keep doing it, to keep making them beg. Keep telling them no. And then, once they’re crying and pleading for it, you give them just the tiniest sliver of mercy.   
  
“I’ll let you cum, skinsack. But first you’re gonna tell me where the fuck McCormick is.”   
  
The little shit groans, and has the nerve to rut back onto your dick, rolling up on the balls of his metal feet because he’s at least a foot shorter than you and you’re not letting your cock slip deep enough to make him scream, like he wants.   
  
Not yet, anyway. 

First you’re going to teach him to shut the fuck up and  _ stay still. _   
  
One of your hands digs into a slender hip, keeping his ass from swallowing your cock the way he wants it to. The other threads its skeletal fingers through the shock of green atop his head and gives it a good hard yank.

“Fuck, Daddy! Please!” he sobs, and from the way that accent thickens, you know it came out of his mouth en Espanol.   
  
_ Oh yeah.  _ This one’s gonna tell you anything you want to know.

“I--I already-- _ nghhhh _ \--told you, Daddy.  _ Nghfuckkkk _ …he’s--he’s not here yet, I d-don’t think! But they’re--ohgodyes, right there! No! Please don’t stop! God, please...”

You stop, obviously.   
  
“I--I dunno if he’s gonna stay on the ship, or when--ugh,  _ fuck _ \--when he’s supposed to show, exactly!”   
  
You roll your hips forward, but just barely. The skinsack whimpers pathetically.   
  
“But I did hear-- _ mnngh! _ \--hear he’s doing an interview sometime this week, I-- _ ah! _ \--I don’t know when! Promotional thing for Hammond or something. Fuck, how can you care about this right n-- _ FUCK!” _

You snarl, giving him every last inch all at once, letting your cock fully extend from your pelvic unit until it's buried as deep as it will go.   
  
For some reason, this one seemingly expected you to have some sort of removable attachment, which is bizarre. Why the fuck would you ever want to remove it? 

_ Skinsuits are so fuckin’ weird. _   
  
He was right about the vibration, you’ll give him that. It’s kind of a given, though. What’s the point of a robot dick if it doesn’t do anything cool? It’s the future, baby. If you can dream it, you can probably find a way to get fucked by it.   
  
_ Shoutout to those crazy bastards at Boston Dynamics--or. Shit I guess it’s Vinson Dynamics now. Whatever.  _   
  


There are exactly three nice things about being trapped in a robotic suit of armor:   
  
**1\. ** Crazy strength.   
**2.** Crazy flexibility.   
**3.** Crazy, vibrating robo-dick.   
  
The skinsuit you’re holding against the wall lets out another desperate sob  _ (“Please fuck me!”), _ and you finally get a tiny ounce of enjoyment out of the whole ordeal when you see the tears streaking down his cheeks. You release that neon green hair to pin him so he can’t move his hips now that you’re fully buried in that tight little ass.

“Yes! Yes! Harder, c’mon, give it to me. I thought you said you were gonna get my blood pumping!”

He’s not really your type. Too talkative. Too hyper. Too...too fucking  _ bouncy.  _ He’s the perfect target when you’re probing (ha.) for intel, but he’s annoying the shit out of you, otherwise.

The metal legs are kind of nice, though.

_ “Where,” _ you seethe into his ear, jaw resting on his shoulder as you pin him against the side of the building. “Where the fuck is this interview happening?”   
  
“On th-the island!” he squeaks, so twitchy with unspent lust that  _ he _ might as well be the one that's vibrating. “I d-don’t know where! I’m sorry, please!”   
  
_ That’s a good skinsack. Here’s your reward. _   
  
There’s a faint sort of buzzing noise when you activate the vibration feature, but you can’t hear it over his wailing. The slender young man screams like you’ve impaled him with your forearm instead of your cock, more tears spilling onto his cheeks and dripping from his chin as he seizes up, instantly cumming, howling as he paints the brick wall in front of him with his orgasm.   
  
Now it’s oversensitivity making him cry, but you’re not stopping, you don’t fucking care. Just like you don’t care that you’re about to cum and not feel it. You spill with a snarl and there’s nothing. No pleasure, just a dull sort of ache where your stomach should be.   
  
_ “Dios mio,” _ he gasps, once you’ve pulled out. Without your cock to keep it there, the blue coolant fluid leaks out of him and splatters onto the pavement beneath your feet.    
  
The translator was off before you even came. You already had what you wanted. You still know enough of this particular language to know what he said, but you wouldn’t give one copper-plated fuck if you didn’t. Once you’re done with them, you don’t give a single shit what any pathetic fleshbag has to say. “Daddy,” _ “Papi,” _ it's all the same to you. Every skinsuit sounds about the same when they come apart around your cock, regardless of national origin.   
  
You’ve got other concerns, concerns that are far more important than whatever this hyperactive idiot is moaning in Spanish when you make him squirt. Specifically, concerns that involve scanning OTV’s broadcast schedule, and figuring out exactly when and where on the island this interview will be taking place.   
  
Five minutes later you’ve got the interviewer’s name. Thirty-two seconds after that, you’ve found her Facebox page. She’s banging the chick with the metal arm, the bartender.

_ Hmm. Good taste, for a skinsack.  _

Kind of surprising, though. The journalist doesn’t have any hardware herself, seems pretty straight-laced. Skinbags are odd -- the unaltered, fully-organics don’t often mix with the biohackers and robotic limb enthusiasts. 

None of that particularly matters. She isn’t the target, she’s just your ticket to him. The first thing you see after her employment info and relationship status is a status update in which she is excitedly broadcasting to the universe and any potentially-interested killbots that she’ll be interviewing James ‘the Forge’ McCormick, live on OTV, the following Monday at 18:00 hours.   
  
But  _ where? _   
  
You spend the weekend searching every square inch of the island for anything that looks like it might be a potential interview location. Somewhere with a good view, probably. Maybe Overlook, or the Skyhook. 

You can’t find a god damn thing. You even check the dropship, scan the data on all the Legends’ devices. 

(Well, almost all of them. One guy has everything encrypted, with the exception of a phone he uses seemingly only to contact other legends. Annoying. Also, kind of weird. Maybe he’s a drug dealer or something. Skinsuits do love their Khionian mushrooms.)   
  
Still, nothing. You keep looking, keep exploring, keep climbing up buildings and into places even the Legends clearly aren’t meant to access. You watch the journalist’s social media page. You check out the less-obvious places to hold an interview, inside the New Dawn facilities. Then you spend six hours searching a different ship from the one the Legends share. It takes you six hours to search it because you’re trying to avoid attracting attention (that will come later), and the ship is stuffed to the gills with sentient meatbags. 

...You don’t realize they’re all holograms until hour five, when you bump into one and it screams, then evaporates into thin air, and you realize you just wasted 5 hours slowly stealthing your way around a ship that’s fucking  _ empty. _

_ God fucking dammit! _

You’ve heard multiple skinbags mention that holograms can be identified by a glowing blue outline, but if they are, you’ve never been able to see it. Some sort of defect in your ancient hardware or your programming, you’re not sure. 

(It’d be nice if you could access your source code to figure out which it is.)

\--

You’ve searched every square inch of World’s Edge. Nothing. 

It’s Monday, January 27th, and you’re ready to fucking murder someone. Figuratively. Literally, too.

Okay, yeah. Technically, you’re  _ always _ ready to murder someone. Today it’s for a good reason, though -- you  _ still _ haven’t been able to find a single mention of the interview’s locale.

The Syndicate is getting nervous. They must know who’s next on The List, or they’ve made an excellent guess. Any other Legend, and this interview would be open to the public. The Syndicate  _ loves _ publicity, and they love money even more. They’d never miss an opportunity to sell overpriced tickets and charge attendees an exorbitant fee for a chance to catch a glimpse of the newest Legend, up close and personal. They’d done so for every other season’s new competitor.

Well, except for that guy with the SynthSkyn all over his neck. They promoted the upcoming interview, sold tickets, there was a crowd of fans all clamoring to catch a glimpse of the guy, and he just...didn’t show up. Probably forgot, just another stupid skinsack and a common human error -- forgetfulness. 

(The normal kind of forgetfulness, not the kind where your memories get wiped. That’s different.)

Even if he hadn’t done it on purpose, the idea of the Syndicate having to pack up their media circus and go home without a payday, handing out refunds to angry fans -- that put a big fat smile on your face.

(Or it would have, if you were capable of smiling. You have a very limited set of facial expressions: mouth open, mouth closed, eyelights on, eyelights off. The whole turning-into-a-demon-vessel thing doesn’t really count as a facial expression, even if it does change the way you look.)

You’re about to throw in the towel, just move on to the next name on The List. You’ll come back for McCormick later, once he thinks he’s safe, lets his guard down. Still, you’re sticking around until showtime, on the off chance you can locate him and gain access to the filming site in the fifteen minutes between when the interview starts and when it ends.   
  
You’re not feeling particularly optimistic. Shit, maybe you’ll go back to that bar tonight, wait for the kid with the green hair and the Stim addiction to come crawling back into your lap, see if you can milk him for any more information. 

_ Though information likely isn’t the only thing that bouncy little shit will be leaking tonight... _   
  
You’re in the middle of considering returning to the bar when you sense something in the Void, and it’s close. Your phase-tech is literally ancient, so old you can’t even use it to travel between dimensions or create portals. You can only escape into the Void, disappearing into a trail of orange light and black Void energy, disguised by a cloud of smoky, ectoplasmic vapor. And you can’t even upgrade the shit. You can’t access your source code, or crack the security system keeping you from installing custom hardware and software. Any viable hardware would be so old that even tracking down compatible replacement parts would be incredibly difficult, let alone finding someone with the skills to perform the upgrade. The only folks who even fuck with your model anymore are hobbyists (read: skinsuits). The Outlands isn’t exactly teeming with friendly fellow bots who specialize in upgrading 300-year-old customized Spectre prototypes. 

_ Ain’t life a bitch? Or death...or whatever the fuck this is that I’m trapped in. _

You had to use that shit-ass portal in King’s Canyon to even escape back to this dimension in the first place, which meant returning to that fucking hellhole, the lab where you were created. A place you still see in nightmares, a place that still swarms with Syndicate snakes who would likely  _ love _ to recover a diverted asset, even if it is three centuries old. The part of you that used to be a skinsack assassin was from the dimension in which you currently resided, of course. But the thing they’d fused your consciousness with was from another, and you’d barely made it back to this side with your motherboard intact.

You try not to think about that much. It's filed safely away in an encrypted folder in a rusty corner of your memory, and that's where it stays. If it ever comes open again, you know it will swallow up whatever's left of your sanity. You don't have a whole lot of sanity to spare.   
  
Whatever is in the Void goes streaking past you in a blur of glowing blue -- for a minute you think you’re finally seeing that blue hologram light the skinsacks always talk about, but there’s no holo, just the blue light. You watch it streak down from the dropship, right past your hiding place, and into the nearby sorting factory.   
  
It likely has nothing to do with McCormick, but you follow it anyway. You’re not curious. You’re just...interested. Even 300 years after your creation, phase-tech is still poorly-understood and rarely seen in action. This is the good shit, too, the kind that can create static portals and skip through dimensions.   
  
You follow the blue streak, jumping from your perch on the outside of the dropship and descending to the ground in a linear orange-and-black glow.   
  
You exit the Void on the roof of the building, peering down through one of the enormous rectangular holes in the roof. The streak of blue light goes through it, and when it hits the ground, a portal opens. Half a second later, two women exit it and begin making their way to the northeast corner of the building. One’s wearing the phase-tech on her arm, the other has a stupid little medical drone hovering at her side. You crawl into the building through one of the openings in the roof, scuttling across the ceiling in a manner that is decidedly Not Human.   
  
_ Giant holes in the roof. Real fuckin’ secure, skinsacks. _   
  
Then again, they could’ve built a fucking moat and it wouldn’t have made a lick of difference. The Void doesn’t give a shit if you remembered to lock the door or not, because you can phase right through it. Still clinging to the ceiling, you make your way over to the northeast corner of the factory, where it seems a small crowd has begun to gather.   
  


And there he fuckin’ is. McCormick is sitting in a folding chair across from the OTV chick with the metal-armed girlfriend, talking about his favorite thing in the universe: himself.   
  
Must be your lucky day.    
  
It’s McCormick’s lucky day, that’s for damn sure. He’s on live TV, surrounded by Hammond and Syndicate security, not to mention the handful of Legends who have turned up to get a look at their newest competition. It’s a shame, really. You’d have rather liked to take your time with him, but this will need to be fast.   
  
_ Oh well. _

Death is Death, in the end it’s all the same. Quick and clean, slow and bloody; doesn’t really matter -- the final result is always a dead meatsack. Today, it’s gonna be quick. 

It ain’t gonna be fuckin’ clean, though.   
  
The lights begin to flicker when you enter your Shadow form, blending in with the dark ceiling. 

_ The Spectral Spectre. Ha. Ha ha. _ _   
_   
At the last minute, you change your mind, returning to your natural state.   
  
McCormick never sees you coming, but the journalist does. The ear-piercing shriek she lets loose when you cut him down is music to your ears.   
  
Or it would be, if you had ears.

_ Look, lady. He was staring right at your tits. I dunno why you're so upset, this guy had it coming, trust me. _   
  
Maybe in a different part of the Frontier, you’d be a little more cautious, less blatant, might’ve waited ‘til the cameras stop rolling before you made your move.   
  
But here? 

_ Oh, you sweet summer child. This is the Outlands, baby. No law. No order. _   
  
And this broadcast? This is how you make a fuckin’ entrance.

This is what makes you Legendary.   
  


\----

They’re pathetic, all of them. But they  _ are _ a joy to kill. 

The closest thing to joy you can feel, anyway.   
  
They’re all glad you killed the big sonofabitch deep down, but they’ll never admit it. Too weak to face the truth. They’re fucking terrified of you, though. And shit, you can’t blame them there. 

It's fine, and it certainly doesn’t bother you. Being a scary sonofabitch makes it even more fun to chase them.

Over and over, you get to pick your target of the day and hunt them repeatedly, relentlessly, every single match, until you know what makes them squirm the most, what makes them shudder and try to run.

They never get very far.

They’re used to the killing, though, and most of them refuse to beg. Still, you’ve gotten the odd  _ ‘Please! Just get it over with!’ _ (usually followed by that choked gurgling sound skinsuits make when you slice through their diaphragm, and that, of course, is satisfying.)   
  
Plus, the begging isn’t what you really live for.

Well, “live” for. 

What you live and die and live and die and die and die and die for are the tears.

The begging isn’t special. Every fleshbag will beg for their life when they know you’re not fucking around. Every useless sack of skin on this piece of shit ship would plead and bargain and beg for mercy if they were dying for real.

Some of them might be, soon. You haven’t finished deciding yet…   
  


The tears, though, those get your dick hard.

Figuratively, of course. Technically it’s always  _ hard. _ That isn’t the point.    
  


You’re surprised by which ones cry, and which ones don’t. 

The soldier doesn’t, but that’s to be expected, she’s former IMC and tough as fuckin’ nails. The tracker...well, you can’t tell, because their eyes are obscured by a mask, but they do make a lovely little noise just before you stab them. Speedy Gonzalez wears a mask, too, and thinks those metal legs make him hot shit, and for half a second you almost agree with him, but you quickly come to your senses. You hear a familiar sob when you stab him in the stomach, and then you realize it’s the bouncy green-haired kid from the bar hiding under that stupid mask, and you laugh. 

_ Too fuckin’ funny. _

He never told you he was a  _ Legend, _ just said he was involved with the Games, and you didn’t ask for specifics, because metal legs or no, he’s a skinbag and you didn’t fucking care. 

It’s pretty clear he never expected to meet you in the ring. 

_ Listen, kid -- you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. This is what you get for fucking a monster. _

The little creep with the pylons doesn’t cry, which is a shock (ha ha.), but you know what they say about books and covers. She likes to drop a node in the corner of a doorway, baiting you into chasing her through it, only to drop a second node on the other side, right before you make it across the threshold. 

_ Brrrrrzzzap! _ Circuits fried. 

She’s one you quickly learn to avoid. 

_ Fucking electric fences. _

  
  
Her big, creepy scientist friend shares your thirst for blood, and your perverse glee when you pull off a particularly torturous kill, but he trembles beneath your hands when they wrap around his throat and squeeze, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. That always freaks the big ones out. He’s no different from the rest of them.

  
  
The robot doesn’t cry, obviously, but it might as well be, and it only falls into the category of “not-crying” because it doesn’t produce tears. It makes a static-y choking noise and all but whimpers  _ “friend, why? ):” _ when you go out of your way to wrap its own grapple chain around its neck and pull until its camera lens cracks, even though there’s a perfectly good peacekeeper strapped to your back and you’d already downed him at point-blank range. 

It may not be crying, but it’s close enough.

The medic doesn’t weep, just grits her teeth and makes some rather unladylike threats. You hate her stupid little skinsuit-healing robot, but love the distressed whirring noise it makes in the moment before you crush its stupid little head beneath your foot. It’s a mercy killing, really. The only thing worse than living forever is living forever with the sole purpose of keeping skinsacks breathing. You hate the way it feels when it hooks into the port on your stomach -- well, ‘thorax’ is honestly a more appropriate word -- to heal you during a match. It burns and aches and  _ stings _ in a way that only creatures without nerve endings and skin can truly understand.

The only thing worse than the healing drone is the scouting drone, as its owner seems to enjoy letting the obnoxious little shit orbit your head until you get annoyed enough to try to snatch it out of the air. Somehow you always miss. That thing’s EMP blast hurts like a bitch, too, which is strange, because like the fences, it barely even bothers the skinsuits. Maybe they’re used to it. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is the tears dripping from its owner’s artificial jaw down onto your artificial wrist when you put a hole through the center of his chest with your forearm.

His little friend with the holograms is tricky. You can see him through his camouflage, and it’s clear that scares him shitless. On the other hand, you’ve heard the skinbags mention that halo of glowing blue light that allows them to differentiate between man and hologram, but for some reason you  _ still  _ can’t see it. All you see are two men that share one face. The same man from that ship full of holograms, you realize. One of them bleeds when you stab him, one of them spews sparks and evaporates, but what’s really strange is that the one that bleeds doesn’t cry when you kill it, but the one that doesn’t bleed leaks tears before you’ve even hurt it. Tears that disappear from the back of your hand when it fades into nothingness and you know you’ve fucked up and killed the wrong one,  _ dammit. _

It’s hard to be upset, though, when that’s the one that cries  _ and _ begs. Every single time. It’s a little easier to be upset when the real version shows up behind you with a wingman. 

_ Dammit! How the fuck do I keep falling for this bullshit? _

  
  
But lately, your favorite of the pathetic, disgusting, useless mammals you now share a ship with is the quiet one. The one who toes the line between life and death so closely that you sometimes can’t tell which side of dead she’s on. Her little tricks with the portals are annoying, but her escape artistry doesn’t last long when you can just follow her into the Void.

You’re not sure where or when you picked up that particular party trick -- another one of those itchy missing memories, a stubborn blank that all the killing still hasn’t managed to fill in for you yet -- but it’s damn useful. It freaks you out if you think about it for too long, so you try not to do that. You also try to stay away from anything reflective, because entering the Void does something to you that it doesn’t to her. It makes you look even more like a monster.   


  
Which is great, really. Nightmarish, metal-mouthed monstrosities are really good at jerking those tears.   


  
She screams when you reach into the Void and rip her right out of the phase-shift, but she doesn’t make a sound in the moments before you snap her neck.   


  
That’s okay. You don’t mind. There’s always next time. You stare down at her pallid corpse in the moments before it’s replaced by her deathbox, and smile when you see that those big blue eyes are open, and even in death, they’re leaking tears.

_ Yes. Beautiful. _   
  


There’s a spring in your step as you scale the next building, crawling, spider-like, up the side and onto the roof, where you scan the arena for your next victim.

_ Today’s gonna be a good day. _

  
\----

The next time you come for her, she’s ready. The only problem with being able to join her in the Void is that it means she can join you there, too.

Something strong jerks your shoulder back just as you’re zipping through the ether in a stream of orange light, and you’re surprised to see a tiny human hand attached to you when you rotate your head just a little further than you should be able to, trying to get a good look.   


  
Skinsuits always seem frightened by the fact that your wrist, neck, and ankle joints can rotate a full 360 degrees, almost like efficiency scares them.  _ Pathetic. _ But that’s skinbags for you, letting fear hinder scientific progress on the grounds of  _ ‘that don’t look right.’  _ They only care about appearances, what’s on the outside, because they know what’s on the inside is all the same: Blood. Tissue.  _ Goop. _ Once you’ve broken the skin, all that differentiates one skinsack from another is the texture and viscosity of the goop they have inside.   


  
Your opticals focus on the thing attached to the tiny hand. It’s the one with the phase-tech, the one that always leaks tears when your knife-sharp fingers pierce her chest but never gives you the satisfaction of an audible sob.    


  
It’s fine. You’ll get there. Every skinsuit has their breaking point, you just haven’t quite been able to pinpoint hers yet. She’s a paradox. Simultaneously fragile and ruthless, she reeks of weakness, emotions,  _ feelings _ \-- but unlike most of the others, she has the sense to keep that weakness hidden behind a thick shield. Not the kind of shield you can pierce with your blade, not the kind you can physically see -- but a shield all the same.   


  
That’s fine, too. You’re good at ripping through human defenses, physical or otherwise. You were built for it. You’ll get those sobs out of her eventually. For instance, right now.

She reminds you of someone, but you can’t be sure who or why. Another one of those uncomfortable, gnawing blanks in your memory storage. The hollow spot in your mind tingles when she’s near.    


  
It just makes you want to slice through her outer shell even more.

  
Your hand has become a murder weapon, but before you can committ the crime, it’s bending backwards. Then there’s a petite, lilliputian foot on your elbow, and it’s bending at an angle even the artificial joint shouldn’t be able to pull off.

Speaking of ‘pull off,’ that’s exactly what she does to your arm. It cracks off at the elbow beneath her tiny foot, and you’re wondering how a fucking skinsack -- a scrawny, weak,  _ crying _ skinsack -- managed to beat you at your own game.

You don’t have long to ponder the answer to that question, because a moment later, your own razor-sharp fingers are piercing through your copper plated chest. You hiss at the pain -- it’s  _ not _ pain, not really, but it’s the only thing you’re programmed to feel, and it’s  _ glorious. _ Death is not your enemy -- she’s your tool, your purpose, an unrequited love.

“Caught you,” whispers the tiny little skinsuit, eyes glowing with Void energy.   


  
If anything, Death is your only friend. Life, on the other hand...   


  
“Don’t worry,” the phase pilot purrs with a wicked grin. “There was no way out of this.”   


  
Then she leans all her weight  _ (all what, ninety-four pounds of it?) _ on the metal arm piercing your sternum, and you hear the telltale sound of your spinal conduit being severed as she impales you on your own arm. Sparks shoot out of your...torso, you’ll call it, because ‘stomach’ is definitely not the right word -- and then everything goes grey, weightless, and for a few beautiful, perfect moments, you float there in the nothingness.   


  
_ Ah, yes. Sweet release. _   


  
Then you’re unceremoniously jerked back to the other side.

You regain consciousness in the Respawn chamber and remember that you’ll never be free, that you’re cursed, that you’ll be forever kept from truly knowing Death’s sweet embrace.

_ Fuck. _

That you’re doomed to repeat this cycle, over and over, for all of eternity.

_ Live. Die. Live. Die. _

Death is your lover, your only companion. Death is beautiful and merciful and everything good that exists. _   
_ _   
_

_ Lather, rinse, repeat.  _

Life, though? Life’s a real fuckin’ bitch. Life’s the crazy ex that just won’t seem to let you go.

_ Live. Die. Live. Die.  _

_ Live. Live. Live. Live live live livelivelivelivelivelivefuckingLIVE-- _

**HELLO VALUED HAMMOND CUSTOMER,** **  
** **  
** **IF YOU ARE SEEING THIS MESSAGE, YOUR SPECTRE UNIT HAS SHUT DOWN DUE TO AN UNEXPECTED PROCESSING ERROR.**

**IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO REPORT THIS ERROR TO HAMMOND ROBOTICS, PLEASE CLICK “SUBMIT.” THIS IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED IF YOUR UNIT HOSTS A SIMULACRUM.** **  
** **  
** **OTHERWISE, PRESS THE “H” ON YOUR UNIT’S HANDPLATE TO CONTINUE.** **  
** **  
** **THANK YOU FOR HELPING US BUILD A KINDER, GENTLER HAMMOND ROBOTICS.**   
  
\--   
_   
_ _ To our valued Hammond customer, _

_ We have received your support ticket. Please have all diagnostic data on hand if your unit requires repairs that cannot be performed remotely. Be aware that any attempts to reprogram or physically alter your Spectre unit will void its lifetime warranty. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Your service ticket number is:  _ ** _#9548_ **

_ There are currently _ ** _ 9,547_ ** _ tickets waiting for service. _

_ Your estimated wait time is  _ ** _[-1.577e+8 ERROR:bufferoverflow]_ ** _ minutes. _

_ Here at Hammond, we strive to maintain customer satisfaction and attend to any customer concerns in a timely manner. While you wait, please feel free to peruse our Spectre troubleshooting guide. _

_ We appreciate your patience. Thank you for choosing Hammond Robotics! _

_ -Hammond Robotics Customer Support _

\--

_ To our valued customer, _

_ It has come to our attention that your latest purchase from Hammond has not met your expectations. Here at Hammond Robotics, we strive to excel in both customer service and satisfaction. Please enjoy this complimentary gift as a symbol of our continued commitment to creating a kinder, gentler Hammond Robotics. If you continue to experience issues with your Spectre unit, please submit a detailed bug report along with the original proof-of-purchase and receipt to our customer support department. We will happily replace any unit that is still under warranty with a current-gen model. _

_ Regards, _

_ Cheryl Amicci _

_ Hammond Industries Customer Service _

\---

**Renee 9:46AM:** Hey

**Hyeon 9:46AM: ** Yo

**Renee 9:46AM:** "Yo"? God, you are turning into such a fuckboy. That Vinson sponsorship is going to your head. 

**Hyeon 9:47AM:** Yeah? You're kind of turning into a monster ever since Optimus Prime started lurking around. What's your deal?

**Hyeon 9:47AM:** And I haven’t decided if they’re sponsoring me yet. I just like free shit.

**Renee 9:49AM: ** Sorry, I'm stressed out. TJ is being a weirdo and it's sort of hard not to be cunty to you when I'm being cunty to him, y'know? idk, it's instinctive, you’re so similar. Anyway I was JK. You were bound to get sponsored, only reason it took so long is because of your chronic, untreated Resting Dickface. (You should see if Vinson will cover your treatment.)

**Renee 9:50AM:** But since you asked, my 'deal' is that I have a question that requires your expertise, O Genius One.

**Hyeon 9:50AM: ** Speak, puny mortal.

**Renee 9:51AM: ** God, you sound like that thing. That's what I wanna ask you about though.

**Hyeon 9:51AM:** It has a name.

**Renee 9:52AM:** Yeah, it's name is It.

**Hyeon 9:52AM:** Be nice. He's not the only Legend who showed up here without a name, Renee.

**Renee 9:53AM:** Be NICE? Did Elliott get you stoned again? I swear to God, I'm gonna have Ajay cut you two off.

**Hyeon 9:53AM:** My current inebriation status is irrelevant.

**Hyeon 9:54AM:** …please do not make Ajay cut me off. Elliott already wants me to cut down on drinking. 

**Hyeon 9:54AM: ** People are trying to kill me, Renee. Have some pity.

**Renee 9:55AM: ** People are trying to kill you every day. I'm going to if you don't answer my question, which, by the way, is 'can robots cry?'

**Hyeon 9:55AM: ** What?

**Renee 9:55AM: ** Wow, you ARE stoned. The last thing you need to be is more paranoid, Jesus Christ.

**Renee 9:56AM:** Back to my question: Robots. Androids. Pretend people. Can they fucking cry, or not?

**Hyeon 9:56AM:** Please don't call them that. They're Synthetics. They are legally people if they meet all the requirements for sentience. If they’re sentient, they can feel things. 

**Renee 9:56AM:** I didn't ask if they can feel things. I asked if they can cry.

**Hyeon 9:56AM:** Will you just tell me why? Explain what you mean.

**Renee 9:57AM:** Will you just answer the fucking question?! Robot tears, Park. Are they a fucking thing or not?

**Hyeon 9:57AM:** Uh, you mean actual tears? Wet ones?

**Renee 9:58AM:** I am definitely telling Ajay to cut you off. 

**Hyeon 9:58AM:** :'(

**Renee 9:58AM: ** Ugh. Fine, whatever. 

**Renee 10:01AM:** Okay. So last night after you fucked off to wherever you went for, like, hours -- which I only know because on the rare occasion you're not responding, Elliott sends all his rambling, train-of-consciousness quadruple text messages to ME -- Path was showing me this super old anime from, fuck, I don't even know when. It's old, he said it's always been on his hard drive.

**Hyeon 10:01AM:** Anime? What's it called?

**Renee 10:02AM: ** You are such a nerd. I take it back. I think stoned-AF Crypto is allowed to stay. Anime 's called Ghost in the Shell. It's fucking awesome, it's about... I dunno, it's about a lot, but it's mostly about sad robot people with guns and all kinds of badass bodymods and horrifically traumatic backstories. You'd love it, right up you alley.. 

**Renee 10:03AM:** So me and Path are on the couch, he's projecting the movie onto the wall with his optical lens, so it's like, movie-screen size. Cool as fuck, right? But after like fifteen minutes I have to pee because beer, and we pause the movie, and on my way to my room I just about piss myself right there in the hall because that fucking THING is just...there. Just standing right on the other side of that little corner you always bump into when you're drunk. Like he was watching us. And he was acting like you were the day I caught you in Singh's lab, y'know? All twitchy, like I caught him watching porn or whatever you were doing in that control both. 

**Hyeon 10:03AM:** I was NOT watching porn. You saw the screen! I was looking at World's Edge!

**Renee 10:05AM:** Yeah yeah. A likely story. Anyway, like I said, it was like with you -- the second I turned the corner, he fucking bolted. Like, up the fucking wall and across the ceiling to get around me because I'm blocking the hall. 

**Hyeon 10:05AM:** Well, yeah. He does that. Being a giant metal spider is kind of his thing. 

**Renee 10:06AM: ** So I've noticed. That's not the weird part -- I mean it's weird that he didn't say "outta my way, skinsuit!" as he scuttled over my head but whatever -- what's weird is what happens after I pee.

**Hyeon 10:06AM:** You poop? 

**Renee 10:07AM: ** Dhdjsid

**Renee 10:07AM:** Uh. You know, I take it back again. Lifeline definitely needs to cut you off. Jesus, it IS weed, right? Elliott didn't trick you into trying those pumpkin-fucking mushrooms, did he?

**Hyeon 10:09AM: ** Fuck. Sorry. SOMEONE is reading over my shoulder and grabbed my phone. Go on, you were saying?

**Renee 10:10AM:** Wait, what was that about fucking pumpkins and mushrooms?

**Hyeon 10:10AM: ** PuteaMzd99#@

**Hyeon 10:11AM:** HI RENEE. I TOOK HIS PHONE BECAUSE YOU AREN'T TEXTING ME BACK. TEXT ME BASHDITRU673443

**Hyeon 10:14AM:** 🤦♂️ Sorry. Me again. Elliott's hands are now sufficiently restrained, please continue.

**Renee 10:15AM:** Uh. Please don't put that mental image in my head. 

**Renee 10:16AM:** Look, when I got out of the bathroom he was standing there with Pathfinder. And I hear him say "Play it again," but it doesn't come out all douchey like everything else he says. I'm down the hall still, they can't see me, and I phase so I can get closer and eavesdrop without getting caught.

**Renee 10:18AM: ** So Path rewinds the scene we'd just watched -- you know how he is, you don't even have to ask him to hit pause when you get up for a beer, he's like the world's friendliest TV remote -- and they watch it a second time, then get back to where we paused. Then Ajay walks in. This thing BOLTS again, but instead of climbing up the wall to get away, it phases into the Void, so I'm fucked, because that's where I am, and I'm still blocking its path through the hall. He bumps RIGHT into me, we both fall on our asses (it HURT. Would have been worse if the laws of physics weren't so fucking bendy in there).

**Hyeon 10:19AM:** Are you alright? Did you let Ajay take a look at you?

**Renee 10:21AM:** Dude, I'm fine. This deathbot, though? I get up and he stays on the ground, and when I finally get a good look at him, his mask-face-thing is wet. There's this blue sticky stuff coming out of his eyeholes. Or the holes where he'd put his eyeballs if he had any. Whatever, you know what I mean. His opticals are leaking. And I'm expecting "the fuck you lookin' at, skinsuit?" but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't get up. He's just staring. Like, staring until it's so awkward I decide I'm out of there. And I bail back to our dimension and go finish marathoning those movies, and nobody sees Bicentennial Man over here for the rest of the night.

**Hyeon 10:21AM:** I see.

**Renee 10:22AM:** So. Back to my question, again: what the actual fuck? It was so weird. I guess you had to be there, idk how to explain it. I know he doesn't have facial expressions but I swear the way he looked at me, it was like...like he was sad. Really, really sad. Is that possible? Were those tears?

**Hyeon 10:22AM:** What happened in the scene from the anime?

**Renee 10:24AM:** Nothing too crazy. This hot-AF chick is taking names and kicking ass, ripping through a room of bad guys. She's human. She wrecks them but she gets a little wrecked herself, so you see her return to her base of operations for a tune-up. 

**Renee 10:24AM:** Anyway she's a "shell" with a "ghost" inside of her -- basically she's a Simulacrum. But like... it's not a sad scene. She's not permanently hurt, seems aware of and cool with her identity. The sad shit came later when she gets trapped in a little girl's body. That part was fucked. But we didn't WATCH that part then, it happened in one of the sequels, so it wasn't what put that creepy killbot in a mood.

**Renee 10:25AM:** I don't know why I care. I don't care. It was just weird.

**Renee 10:30AM: ** So? You gonna answer?

**Renee 10:31AM:** in case your stoner ass already forgot, the question is can. robots. cry. question mark.

**Renee 10:36AM:** ???

Just when Renee’s given up hope on ever getting a coherent answer, her phone vibrates.

**Hyeon 10:37AM:** they can become depressed, like any sentient being, but no, most of them do not come equipped with functional tear ducts. Not exactly a mod that's in popular demand. 

**Renee 10:38AM: ** I thought the whole point of robots is not being a weak piece of shit like a human. It's about being a smart, strong piece of shit, unlike a human.

**Hyeon 10:38AM:** Crying isn't weak. He isn't a piece of shit. We barely know him.

**Renee 10:40AM:** I'm gonna try to be nice because I know you're high right now: you are tripping, dude. You are freaking me out. A month ago you were ready to help me kill this thing. 

**Hyeon 10:41AM: ** I don't think he can be killed. Not permanently.

**Renee 10:42AM:** Right. Sounds awesome. So why is he such a grouchy fuck all the time? And why is he crying?

**Hyeon 10:42AM:** He wasn't crying.

**Renee 10:43AM: ** WTF. YOU JUST SAID HE WAS.

**Hyeon 10:44AM:** I said he could be depressed.

**Renee 10:44AM:** Yeah, okay. Final verdict: weed is rotting your brain.

  
\----

  
_ “What the hell are you?” _ It’s always their first question.

  
  
(It’s usually their last, too.)

  
  
And it most often gets stuttered out when you’ve revealed your Shadow form. The skinsuits are used to robots that kill. The killing isn’t what makes you special, it’s just what makes things fun.

  
  
So what are you?

  
  
You’re the monster under your own bed. You’re lethal precision. You’re cold steel in a warm chest cavity. You’re the Shadow they just barely catch a glimpse of before everything goes dark. And this time, the lights never flicker back to life. 

You’re the king of the fuckin’ canyon, baby.

And the thing inside of you, that required a trip to the nightmare dimension and a system override to even escape from? Well, it’s something else entirely.

** _I’m the boogeyman, bitch. And I’m coming for you._ **   
  


Since manually removing the monster from your head, things have been pleasantly quiet inside your metal skull. You can no longer hear The Voice, thank the gods. But if you could, you’d hear it laughing at you. You’d hear it saying,  ** _BOO! _ **

** _Hahaha. That always makes ‘em jump. Jump, skinsuits! Jump and run._ **   
  
** _That’s right. Run. Run, and keep running._ **   
  
** _It’s better for me that way. _ **

** _It’s better when you struggle, darling._ **

_   
_   
Thankfully, you can’t hear That Voice anymore, so it doesn’t matter, and whatever it’s laughing about certainly doesn’t concern you.   
  


Yet.

\---

_ [Excerpt from THE OUTLANDS JOURNAL -- Volume 6, Issue #12 -- February 14th] _   
  
** _TERROR ON TALOS: _ ** _ Various news agencies are reporting more strange happenings on the remote island in the wake of Legend’s murder -- but could there be love in the air?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ WORLD’S EDGE -- Life was just getting back to normal for residents of the nearly-abandoned research outpost when disaster struck once more. After a week of frantic searching, the mysterious killer known only as Revenant has finally been located, yet he walks free. Unseen in the days following James “The Forge” McCormick’s murder -- which was broadcast to millions of viewers, live on OTV -- the murderous metal monster has finally introduced itself. It appears the Revenant will replace Forge as this season's debut Legend. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ When asked to explain his reason for joining the games, the frightening murder machine told our (unbelievably brave) journalist, “If I can be honest -- I just like the killing. I just like watching skinsuits suffer.”  _

_ Using an unknown tech to manually respawn himself and his team mates, Revenant undeniably brings an edge to any squad he joins, though it seems he prefers to play alone. Outrage continued this weekend when it was announced that the mysterious metal murder machine will be allowed to join the Apex Games as a permanent replacement for the Legend he murdered. Fans seem divided on the issue -- many are horrified, claiming the Syndicate is encouraging copycat crimes by letting the synthetic nightmare loose to terrorize his fellow competitors. Others, however, are seemingly thrilled by this shocking turn of events, claiming it adds ‘entertainment value.’ One thing remains clear: a genuine killer now stalks the arena, and it appears he's here to stay. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Unfortunately for curious fans, the newest addition to the Legend team seems as tight-lipped on his past as his predecessor, Hyeon Kim. Rumors have swirled around the enigmatic computer engineer’s personal life for months, but until recently, it seemed little more than hearsay. Most gossip initially revolved around his squeaky-clean past, and the similarities between his drone and the drones created by wanted murderer Tae Joon Park -- drones that are used to broadcast the Games throughout the Frontier to this day. But interestingly enough, the start of the new season seems to have fans more concerned with what he’s currently getting up to than his personal history -- after all, the Syndicate has recently let a different known killer into the ring. But despite his seemingly-reserved, distant personality, rumor has it that recently, Kim has been getting close with a fellow Legend. Very close. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Si, si, he is absolutely f***ing Witt,” said a source close to the Legends who wished to remain anonymous. “Like, constantly.” _

_ Fans of the Apex Games have speculated for months that Mirage, AKA Elliott Witt -- the son of famed holotech engineer Evelyn Witt, and arguably the biggest star to join the Legend lineup thus far -- has a new paramour. The holographic trickster has never shied away from revealing his relationship status (or lack thereof) to the press in the past, and some speculate his newfound reluctance to answer questions regarding his friendship with Kim -- who is known as “Crypto” in the ring -- indicates the two Legends may be getting along better than fans expected. Even more damning is the fact that Witt’s profile on 'Finding Solace' -- the popular matchmaking service that hails from Witt’s home planet -- has mysteriously disappeared from the web. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I, uh, well y’know...we’re n-not on Solace anymore, so I, uh, figured it was time for that thing to go,” Witt told the Outlands Journal when we caught up with him on the red carpet at last month’s season premiere. He declined to reveal more about his friendship with the enigmatic Kim. _

_ When reached for comment, Mr. Kim said, “Get that camera out of my face if you don’t want it broken, byeongshin.” _

_ But fans remained skeptical until this week, when an anonymous Syndicate source revealed that they recently observed the Legends in a tender embrace. The witness describes the two Legends as “attached at the hip, literally,” and claims to have seen them hugging near the Respawn chambers after the first match of the season ended in brutal defeat for both Legends.  _

_ The match was a flawless victory for the newest Legend, known only as the Revenant. In his first-ever game, the spooky Spectre wiped out every other squad, despite some technical difficulties causing him to enter the match alone, without any team mates. The robotic killer single-handedly managed a 30-kill win, taking several Legends out more than once and besting fan-favorite Mirage’s previous record of 22 kills in a single game. At a few points, the coolant-blooded killer appeared to purposefully wait to finish off a squad so his enemies could respawn their fallen team mates, apparently for the sole purpose giving the robot a chance to rack up even more kills. Revenant's main strategy appears to be pure intimidation. The skull-faced Legend avoided knockdown for the entire duration of the match. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “They’re terrified,” says our anonymous Syndicate source. “They don’t want to admit it, but what happened to McCormick on OTV has them all shaken up. S*** is getting tense on that dropship. Really tense.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ At a recent press conference, the Syndicate’s head of PR, Jacob Young, assured fans and Legends alike that all is well on the remote planet Talos. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Obviously, the loss of our newest Legend was a tragic, unexpected turn of events,” Young said in a statement released three days after the brutal killing was captured live on OTV. “But we’re not letting it dampen our spirits, and there’s no need to worry. McCormick’s death was a terrible accident, but the Spectre can’t really be blamed. It’s a machine. We had our, uh, best tech guys take a look, and what happened at that interview was simply the unfortunate result of an unexpected software error that has since been repaired. You can, uh, thank Hammond Robotics for that, honestly. We’re confident the Revenant is no longer a threat to his fellow competitors when they’re outside of the ring. The safety of the Apex Legends and their many fans remains a top priority for all of us here on Talos,” he assured worried fans and journalists alike at the crowded press conference. “And while I’ve got your attention, I’d like to clear up a few things and make a statement regarding these absurd rumors about some sort of viral pandemic being released from one of our facilities on Gaea: It didn’t happen.” _

_ Young declined to answer questions from any members of the press. _

\---

“Hey, c’mon, you gotta gimme something, Iron Man,” Elliott whined. “You got a name?”   


  
“‘Revenant’ isn’t good enough for you?” it growled in that freakishly-deep voice, vaguely reminding Elliott of the thundering voice of the villian in an ancient space opera his grandfather had shown him as a child.

“Not really, no.”

“Then try this on for size: I’m Death. Nice to fuckin’ meet you,” it sneered.

_ How can a robot fucking sneer? Is sneer-tech a thing? _   


  
_ Note to self: ask Hyeon if being a dickbag is programmed into this thing. _

He’s hoping that maybe, if he talks to it, it won’t haunt his nightmares anymore. He used to live in fear of Nox -- and it  _ was  _ Alexander Nox, according to Hyeon -- but after a few hundred matches, one gets to know one’s squadmates whether one wants to or not. Most of them are a lot less prickly once you get past their outer armor.

_ Somebody’s _ got to break the unspoken  _ “Hey, you murdered an actual Legend, for real, like, permanently,” _ tension that has been palpable since the start of the season. Everyone on the ship is fucking terrified of the thing, even Nox and Anita, and they’re not scared of anything. Hell, even Pathfinder seems like he isn’t a fan, and that clunky old bastard is a fan of  _ everyone. _

The three of them -- Elliott, Renee, and Hyeon -- have been spending a  _ lot  _ of time on the Boyfriend Boat. Often, other legends have joined them, eager to escape the frightening nightmare currently stalking halls of the dropship.

But the big shiny sonofabitch is an even tougher nut to crack than Hyeon, which almost doesn’t seem possible, but it evidently is. Unlike Hyeon, the thing’s unbearably rude, insufferably bossy, and just generally a fucking nightmare to work with. A nightmare to even be around.

“Okay fine, forget the name. Something easier,” Elliott says, flashing his most charming social media star smile. “Like, I dunno, how old are you?”   


  
“Older than you, skinsuit. By a lot,” it snaps aggressively, switching out the magazine on its alternator for a better one. “That good enough?”   


  
“Uh, weirdly unspecific, but sure...OK, how about your homeworld? Where are you from?” Elliott asks, before feeling the need to add, “I’m not asking for GPS coordinates, buddy. General vicinity is fine.”

“Solace.”

“No way!  _ See? _ I told you we have something in common!” Elliott blurts out, feeling rather victorious. The thing has been aggressively unfriendly so far, and it scares him shitless, but he’s determined to overcome that fear by annoying the ever-living shit out of it in return.

The thing whips around, stopping dead in front of Elliott and nearly causing him to walk right into it. Towering over him, it leans down to bring those eerie yellow eyes close to the trickster’s face. 

“We are  _ nothing _ alike, skinsack,” it snarls in that terrifying voice. “The only location that matters is your location relative to my blade. Now shut the fuck up before someone sneaks up and stabs you in the back. I’m currently considering it.”

Elliott shuts the fuck up, because getting stabbed in the back (and the front, to be perfectly honest) is pretty high on his list of fears as of late. 

But after a few moments of strained silence, he can't resist adding, “So that’s how you solve all your problems, huh? Stab 'em in the back? Well I've got news for you, buddy, that's not how you win a match. Teamwork makes the dream work!"

The robot halts again, turning back to face Elliott (and, presumably, to remove Elliott's face from the rest of his body, likely for the purpose of wearing as a mask, or something equally-grotesque). But before it can get any closer, a portal appears in front of it, instantly transporting the Spectre several dozen meters away. 

"Will you stop bickering? Jesus Christ!" Renee hisses as she jogs up to Elliott. "I can't hear my Void voices over your bullshit. Shut up! I’m not trying to get stabbed by that thing today, okay?"

"Hey, tell that to the Iron Giant over here, he started it!" Elliott whines back defensively. 

They both fall silent when the Revenant catches back up to them, and they stay that way for the rest of the match.

\--

_ This is the worst fucking match. Ughhhhh. _

He’s been paired up with the phase pilot, which is…fine, compared to the rest of them. What is  _ not _ fine is their third team mate -- the holographic idiot who appears to be physically incapable of shutting the fuck up, ever.   


  
The phase pilot vaguely reminds Revenant of the protagonist of a game he loved in his skinsuit days. It was old even then, now it’s fucking ancient, but word on the street is they’re finally coming out with a third installment.   


  
Immortality has all kinds of fun little bonuses, like living long enough to see what Valve spent all that Steam money on: Portal 3.   


  
_ Fuckin’ finally. Took you bastards long enough. Skinsuits are so inefficient. _   


  
If phase-chick is the silent protagonist of the game, then her little friend holo-dude is the annoying, hovering robot that never shuts up and never stops following her around. And Revenant, of course, is the villainous AI who has had just about enough of both of them, frankly.   


  
_ GlaDOS. Man, what a fuckin’ babe.  _

_ Alexa, set reminder: raid Valve HQ, procure copy of Portal 3. _   


  
Another bonus, when it comes to being a robot? No need to splurge on a VR implant or one of those giant headsets. You just plug that shit right into your skull.

Revenant’s jolted out of his thoughts when a portal opens in front of him, transporting him back a few dozen meters, seemingly just to piss him off.   


  
_ Look, lady. I don’t care that you’re cute for a skinbag, I will fuckin’ kill your short little ass if you don’t stop bullying me with your fancy phase-tech. _   


  
She’s arguing with Decoy Boy, though, as apparently he’s located the endpoint of her patience. He’s pretty good at that, annoying the shit out of people.   


  
The Spectre’s thoughts are interrupted, however, when he hears the sound of that  _ fucking drone  _ hovering somewhere nearby. Portal chick disappears into the Void, holo-dick disappears into his shitty camouflage and hides (poorly) behind a bush.   


  
_ Thanks for the support, assholes. Ugh, this is why I play alone. _   


  
Unfortunately, the Syndicate seemed to have fixed the error that kept causing him to load into the match with no team mates. A tragedy, truly. Or maybe they didn’t  _ quite _ fix it, because despite having (terrible) teammates himself, Revenant notes that the drone pilot appears to be lacking any squadmates of his own. Besides the fucking drone, that is.   


  
That doesn’t stop him from taking down the one they call Wraith the second she’s popped back out of the Void.   


  
“Dammit, Hyeon!” she curses, crawling away and cowering in an alcove, behind her purple knockdown shield.   


  
Just as Revenant’s about to introduce himself, he hears a feminine giggle from somewhere behind him. A triple take fires, then Revenant is sucked back through the Void, back from the brink of Death itself, spawning several yards away, at his totem.

Then he gets tazed. Well, sort of.   


_   
_ _ MotherFUCKER. Always with the fences.  _   


  
_ “Au revoir!” _ chirps the crazy little chick with the electrical charge, waving goodbye as she walks away after fencing him into a corner, trapped at his own totem.

_ And people say she needs a buff. Please no.  _

_ I can’t believe she fenced me into my own damn totem. Skinsuits with brains are so fucking annoying. _

_ At least kill me, come the fuck on! Don’t leave me here with one HP, this is embarrassing! _   
  


It seems SynthSkin over there does have a teammate, after all. The chick with the electric fences skips off to go finish the phase-pilot while Synthetic skin guy circles the bush where the holopilot is hiding. Two seconds later, the timer on his invisible camo runs out, and he materializes before the synthsuit’s eyes.   


  
“Thought I heard you around here somewhere,  _ jagiya,” _ the drone pilot says.   


  
Revenant doesn’t know enough Korean off the top of his head to know what the synthsuit called the holo-idiot, so he turns on his translator. He then promptly wishes he hadn’t.   


  
“Don’t be sad, I’ll make it up to you,” the drone pilot says before leaning a little closer and adding, “I’m going to fuck you until you cry tonight, my love,” afterwards, in Korean.   


  
_ Ugh. Ew. Get a fuckin’ room. _   


  
Once he’s finished with his phoenix kit, the Spectre needs an escape plan. As much as he hates the one with the holograms, phase-babe is now a deathbox currently being rooted through by the little one with the fences, so he doesn’t really have a choice. But just as Revenant’s rising to his feet to suck it up, take the fence damage, and go wreck the guy who is covered in SynthSkyn, the human’s robotic companion appears behind him and promptly electrocutes Revenant once again.   


  
_ God fuckin’ dammit! _   


  
Once holosuit boy is also a deathbox, the little weirdo with fake skin makes his way over to where the Spectre lies on the ground, still jerking from the shock of the EMP. He doesn’t say a word, just reaches out and grabs Revenant by his throat -- _ ballsy little thing, this one _ \-- yanking him up into a kneeling position. The highly-efficient murderbot would have promptly impaled him on its highly-efficient murder-arm, except its limbs don’t want to cooperate at the moment. 

_ How the fuck do the skinsuits recover from this EMP so fast? Jesus! _ _   
_

_   
_ _ Ugh. This is so embarrassing, seriously. _   


  
Revenant pretends to be distracted by something in the grass beneath him.    


  
“Oh no,” the synthsuit says, reaching out to tilt the Spectre’s chin up a little bit. “You’re going to look at me while I finish you.”

_ Excuse me?? _   


  
The robot raises his glowing eyes, even though he doesn’t want to...because he’s curious. The skinsuit grins, clearly pleased with himself. Then he pulls the drone from the little holster on his back, where it automatically returned after detonating the EMP.   


  
_ Ugh, not the fuckin’ EMP again… _   


  
“I’ve been watching you, you’re not bad,” the synthskin says softly, before adding, in Korean, “But you’re still not much.”

Then the human promptly whacks him right in the face with the stupid little scouting drone.    


  
The last thing Revenant hears before the world goes black is the chick with the fences giggling after the synthskin says  _ “I cracked your securities, and your face.” _

\--   
  


The Spectre stumbles out of the Respawn chamber and falls to his knees, sparks flying as his limbs collide with the metal flooring of the dropship. 

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.   
  
Pain. Pleasure. Every last atom in his metal frame is screaming, singing, flaying him alive.   
  
(Well, technically not  _ alive…) _   
  
Love. Lust. Fury. Pain.

_ This isn’t right. _

Joy and anguish in equal measure.   
  
_ Please, no… _   
  
Anxiety. Worry. Mortal fucking terror. 

_ What IS this? Fuck, make it stop! _

Fear,  _ human _ fear, so thick he can smell it. Somehow, he knows it’s his own.   
  
_ What the fuck is-- _   
  
Warm blood melting ice. Ice-cold coolant fluids soaking into hot sand. Smoke. Thick, black, with little orange embers that sting his lungs when he inhales. Once he does, he can’t blow it out, because he remembers then that he doesn’t have lungs.

_ Oh god. Fuck.  _   
  
A voice that moans and begs and pleads for mercy. A weak voice. A skinsuit’s voice, screaming at the top of its little skinsuit lungs, screaming so loud he can feel something clanking around in his brain as the sound resonates in his skull.   
  
He covers his ears.   
  
(He doesn’t have ears.)   
  
_ ‘No! Please! Please, make it stop! Please don’t put that thing in here again, please just let me die. I’m begging you, please don’t...fuck, no! PLEASE, NO!’ _   
  
But somehow It  _ is _ inside him now. In his brain, in his veins, even though his current body has neither.

“NO!” he screams, sparks flying as metal fists smash against the metal floor of the dropship, an angry spike of orange energy arcing from his elbows to his wrists, then the ground.   
  
And just like that, it stops. Silence.    
  
_ Sweet fucking silence. _   
  
Silence that is promptly interrupted by a skinsuit.   
  
“You, uh, you alright there, brudda?” comes a voice from somewhere above him. It isn’t his own.   
  
_ Thank god. Christ, for a second I thought-- _   
  
Before he can grit out  _ “fuck off, fleshpuppet,” _ the medic has already answered for him.   
  
“Nuh,” she sneers down at the kneeling robot, sauntering out of the respawn chamber to his left. “I dunno wha dis ting is, but one ting fa sure -- it ain’t fuckin’  _ alright.” _   
  
She spits on the floor between the Revenant’s fists, sneering as she saunters towards the hall leading to the common area and Legends’ quarters. She stops at the doorway, looking back at the big man. 

_ “‘Ey! _ Quit limin’ around, Gib. You comin’ or nuh?”   
  
The big shielded bastard glances at the Spectre, who is still shuddering on the floor, then looks back at the medic, who stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.   
  
“Yeah, I’m comin’.”   
  
_ “Good,”  _ she claps back just a little too quickly.    
  
The Revenant distantly perceives the pneumatic hissing sound of two more respawn chambers opening behind him, followed by giggles that are promptly halted by a gasp and a muttered  _ ‘oh shit,’ _ in Korean. 

_ Great, more skinsuits to see me on the floor like an idiot,  _ he thinks.   
  
But for some reason he doesn’t yet feel capable of getting to his feet, and he’s far more interested in the argument currently happening in front of him than some giggling skinsuits behind him. He doesn’t turn to look at them, whoever they are.   
  
“C’mon, Ajay, gimme a break,” the one apparently called ‘Gib’ says as he reluctantly follows the medic, clearly trying not to incite her wrath. “It’s my  _ job  _ to--”   
  
The medic stops in her tracks, whipping around and getting right up in the big man’s face.

“Dun’ start wit me, Gibby! Ya  _ job _ is da same as mine, in case ya forgot -- it’s to protect da livin’. Dun go soft on me now, now ain’t da time fa dat big ol’ bleedin’ heart you got, an’ it definitely no time to waste ya worries on dis--on dis _ ting. _ Tink we all know it’s perfectly capable of handling itself.” 

She nods in Revenant’s direction, but doesn’t deign to look at him, evidently preferring to pretend he’s not even there.   
  
“Ajay--” starts the big man.   
  
_ “Nuh! _ ” she snaps, interrupting. “I don’ wan’ta hear it, Makoa. Dis ain’t one of ya damn charity cases, issa a god damn demon! Now get ya sorry ass in here, you promised we’d talk about--”   
  


“Okay!” the shielded man blurts out before she can finish her sentence. “Okay,  _ alright. _ I’m coming, chill out.”   
  
Then they disappear into the hallway.   
  
The Revenant rubs at his faceplate, finally beginning to somewhat recover from...from whatever the hell that was, that just happened to him.   
  
Then he remembers he’s still on the floor, still looking like an idiot, still being stared at by the two skinsuits he forgot were behind him. He drags himself to his feet, trying to shake off the dizziness.   
  
_ Since when do robots get dizzy? What the fuck is wrong with me? _   
  
When he looks up, the two skinsuits are both staring silently, eyes wide. It’s that asshole with the holograms and the guy with the drone and the fake skin. He’s got an optical implant, too, the Revenant realizes, when his own optics focus on the man’s face for the first time outside the heat of battle. Hardware peeks through the skin around his eyes, and somehow it doesn’t strike Revenant as grotesque when he realizes that’s the source of the little green holoscreen that projects itself in front of the human's face when he pilots that godforsaken drone.   
  
“The fuck are you lookin’ at, skinsuits?” he growls in his best Big Bad Deathbot™ voice. He hopes it’s his best. He’s not exactly feeling his most threatening at this particular moment.   
  
The one with the holosuit squeals  _ “Um, nothing! Sorry!” _ and disappears into thin air. Or he tries to, based on the flourish of his hand, but Revenant can still faintly see him through the camouflage as the man darts around him and through the same doorway his comrades left through moments before.   
  
The other skinsuit doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t even back up when the seven-foot-tall killing machine stands and takes a step toward him.   
  
“I said what the  _ fuck _ are you looking at?”   
  
The fleshbag shrugs, hands in the pockets of that big coat that always seems to be swallowing him up. “You tell me. What am I looking at?”   
  
He doesn’t sound scared. He sounds...suspiciously not-entirely-repulsed. Curious, but not in a  _ can I fuck this thing without getting murdered? _ kind of way, like most skinsuits that don’t immediately bolt the moment Revenant enters a room. His calm demeanor is starting to piss the ancient Spectre unit right the fuck off, and so is this...whatever the fuck it is he’s wearing that’s making him look like a Simulacrum himself, when Rev knows damn well he’s human. 

The fleshbag’s strange, skin-deep armor is an illusion, just like those stupid fucking decoys, but it’s a damn good one. His skin has gone white as a porcelain doll, his hair a shade of blue that seems almost bioluminescent, the sclera of his eyes are now the telltale black of a current-gen Spectre, and his irises glow the same unnatural sort of blue as his hair. If it weren’t for the fact that he could still pick up the man’s vital signs, Revenant would have fallen for it. But he can sense that heart rate shooting through the roof when he takes another step toward the pathetic creature, and  _ that _ is undeniably human, even if it is the only indication that the human has enough sense to be afraid.

“Playing dress-up doesn’t fool me, little fleshbag,” the Revenant hisses. “It doesn’t scare me, either.”  
  
“It wasn’t intended to,” the skinsuit says, tone still unbelievably casual and relaxed given his current proximity to _Death its-fucking-self.__  
_  
Despite that feigned fearlessness, the robot doesn’t miss the way the man’s throat bobs as he swallows nervously when Revenant takes another threatening step in his direction. That’s satisfying, at least.  
  
What’s not satisfying is the fact that the fucking skinsuit then proceeds to reach out and touch the Revenant’s face.  
  
_No. He touched my skull. I don’t have a face. I have a metal faceplate._  
  
The human was stroking a thumb along the sharp edge where Revenant’s face_plate*_ met his optical socket. The Revenant wasn’t in the habit of recoiling from the touch of weak, pathetic skinsacks, but the sheer boldness of the terminally-curious idiot’s actions caused him to jerk away quickly enough that it made the human smirk.  
  
“Do your optics always leak coolant after you lose a match?” asked the brave little shit.  
  
_Do my--what?_  
  
Revenant reaches up to touch his cheekbone, and his fingertips come away covered in blue liquid. It’s on the skinsuit’s thumb, too. The human rubs it between thumb and forefinger, as if analyzing its viscosity.

_ God DAMMIT. The FUCK? Why is there jizz leaking out of my EYES? _   
  
He’s got the skinsuit slammed against the wall in the flicker of an optical implant, and finally it has the good sense to look afraid.   
  
He’s not going to kill it just yet, but he definitely plans to put a little more fear into those pretty blue eyes before he's done here. He towers over the little human, and just when he’s about to whip out the fingerblades and teach him a lesson, something drops down onto the shock-white skin of the half-synth’s cheek. Something small and wet and as blue as the eye just above it.    
  
“You might want to get that looked at,” says the skinsuit, reaching up to wipe the drop of coolant away before it rolls into his eye.   
  
_ Shit, they’re still leaking? What the fuck? Why? _

_ Why are my fucking eyeholes leaking? _

_ Jesus. This is so embarrassing. _

He slams the kid with obvious deathwish harder against the wall and for another tense moment, briefly considers ending him then and there. He’d deserve it. He hasn’t come out and said it, but he doesn’t have to, his meaning is clear:  _ hahaha, did I make the big scary robot cry? _   
  
“Robots do not  _ cry,  _ skinsack!” Revenant seethes, furious.   
  
“I didn’t say they did,” replies the sack, expression still infuriatingly neutral, unaffected. His heart rate has dropped, too, and it’s not slamming into his ribcage hard enough for the Revenant to feel it anymore.   
  
_ God dammit! _   
  
The Spectre releases him, turning its back with a snarl and stalking out of the respawn room, still wiping at the blue coolant fluid leaking from the place where its tear ducts would be, if it had any.   
  
_ Robots do not fucking cry. _   
  


\----

He did something. The skinsuit with the fake skin. He must have. Something fucking happened when that drone collided with Revenant’s skull. Something broke.   
  
Or was  _ hacked. _   
  
_ That little SHIT. _

Maybe it happened when he touched his face--er, faceplate--maybe he did something with those weird metal things on his fingertips. Uploaded some sort of virus, or something. Something that explains what the fuck is happening to him. He’s taken a few whacks to the head, flashbacks happen, it’s whatever. But this is something else. The skinsuit somehow found a way to open the Pandora’s box the Spectre has desperately been trying to keep locked tight since that day on Psamanthe, in Olympus.    
  
_ Jesus Christ. What a fucking mess. _   
  
But it won’t go away. He can hear the screams. He can hear the crying. And the very worst part, is that hearing it makes him feel  _ sick. _   
  
He shouldn't feel  _ anything. _

It’s in his head day and night now, the screaming. It’s not his own voice, at least. And thank the fucking gods above and demons below that it isn’t  _ The _ Voice, That Voice. Anything is better than That Voice, and he’s grateful it hasn’t made an appearance since he trapped its ass in that cave by the slums in the world of Shadows. Still, the screams alone are proof that something is wrong. It has to be that skinsuit. He must have done something.   
  
The screams haunt him every second, every hour. Day and night. He wakes up from his charging cycles with a headache and a battery that’s only halfway charged.   
  
_ A dozen men, dead. The woman, just because she got in my way and pissed me off when she shot me in the shoulder. _ _   
  
_

_ The bullet didn’t even leave a dent when I looked at it later. When I knew.  _

_ Then the man, just because The Voice told me to. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And that little girl. Jesus, it was almost crueler to have left her alive. _   
  
Tenmei wasn’t like what he did at the lab. Tenmei was a fucking massacre. Everything before it was, too, but Tenmei was the first time he knew. The first time the truth flickered in front of his face(plate).   
  
Thinking about Tenmei makes him think about Lowell. 

Lowell wasn’t at Tenmei, Lowell was at the lab on Talos, and Lowell fucking deserved it. Lowell worked for  _ them. _ Lowell could get fucked.   
  
_ Well, not anymore. Lowell’s ghost can get fucked, maybe. I’m not particularly interested in testing that out, though. _   
  
Figuratively, though, Lowell could get fucked. Lowell worked for them, his pretty Asian wife worked for them, and both of them needed to die. He needed to  _ know. _   
  


“WHY?”   
  
_ I didn’t really expect him to answer. I’d already broken most of him by that point, after all. _   
  
“It was the cleanest kill,” the lab tech gurgled back. “Just enter the mark’s name in the program. Day later, they’re dead. Completely untraceable. The perfect crime. Please, mister! I have  _ kids!” _   
  
“How unfortunate for them. But hey, look on the bright side, Lowell. Today’s their lucky day. I’m about to do them a real big favor. This next part’s gonna save them from the inevitable mid-20’s existential crisis.”   
  
“Oh, god!  _ AHHHHHH!” _   
  
The Spectre hasn’t even done anything yet.   
  
From somewhere on the other side of the lab, he hears Lowell’s wife curse under her breath and hiss at him to shut up. 

_ She said it in Korean, I could tell from her accent. I remember that. I remember thinking ‘Damn, bitch. Even for Syndicate, that’s cold as ice.’ _   
  
“The ‘cleanest kill,’ huh?” sneered the hulking murder machine as it leaned over the cowering human. “Well fuck you, Lowell. Nothing about what I do is  _ clean.” _

Lowell screamed when his nose broke on the H on the robot’s handplate, but he didn’t make a sound when the Spectre snatched his peacekeeper and painted the wall with his brains. 

_ Those things are only ever worth a shit at point-blank range. Point-blank range is my favorite. Too hard to see the tears through a sniper scope, you know? His wife didn’t even try to stop me. She just tried to crawl away. Didn’t get too far on a broken leg. _   
  
_ There you go, bitch. I made Lowell shut up. Now it’s your turn. I’m sure you & Lowell’s kids are gonna appreciate the souvenirs I leave them from today’s little field trip to Mommy & Daddy’s big fancy sci-fi lab. _   
  


The lab wasn’t like Tenmei. He doesn’t have nightmares about it every time he powers down. He doesn’t hear the screaming. The lab was different, and the only people who died were people who thoroughly deserved it. 

_I didn’t even kill the maintenance crew, not even when that crazy chick had the nerve to ask me _**_why._**   
  
His first instinct had been to snap_ “I don’t fucking know, skinsuit. Do you really wanna question that?”_ But then he realized it was a good question, because he didn’t have an answer. 

He tilted his head, focusing his optics on the little human’s face as he processed her question. After a moment, he shrugged, and replied “You’re not on The List.”

But the truth? The truth was  _ “because I’m running the show now, Syndicate. Get your fuckin' popcorn ready.” _

His only regret about the lab was that Lowell and his wife Chun-hei’s kids were all off-world at some fucking boarding school.    
  
_ Syndicate doesn’t even want their little brats on this shithole planet. _   
  
All except one. The only skinling that remained planetside was some little shit named Min, who was barely a skinsquirt at the time, and far too young to appreciate any gruesome family heirlooms he might have delivered to the doorstep of the family home on the mainland.

_ Fuck it. Not worth the effort. Anyway, you’re better off without ‘em, skinsquirt. You’ll thank me for this when you’re older. _

  
\--

He tries to think about Lowell and Chun-hei and the Proteus Medical lab at night, when the screams of Tenmei patrons are at their loudest, but it never helps. It never makes it better. It never turns the volume down, and it never, ever lets him rest.

Glass shatters. A woman screams.

Then the running.   
  
“Oh my  _ god!” _ “Fuck!” “Hurry up, hurry up!”   
  
“Stay calm,” says the target.

You’re not sure if he’s telling his security team, or himself. Either way, it seems he’s going with the  _ ‘it can’t see me if I don’t move’ _ strategy.

_ Ah, yes. The ol’ T-Rex-survival school of thought. _

Well. Your opticals  _ are  _ getting old.

_ Wait, what? No, I need new contact lenses. WTF, Brain? _

“You two,” Andrande points to two of his guards and snaps his fingers impatiently.  _ “Go!” _ _   
_   
The muzzle flashes are bright in the dim mood lighting of the restaurant, but your ancient optical implants adjust easily. Thing 1 and Thing 2 go down without a struggle. You don’t even process the few bullets you don’t manage to dodge when they hit you.   
  
You do process the dumb fuck who smashes you over the head with a chair like he’s in a televised wrestling match from the days when you were actually alive.   
  
** _Now, _ ** commands The Voice, once it’s finished laughing.   
  
You grit your teeth, but you don’t have a choice. It has spoken. You smash the totem and two become one.   
  
Your target is getting nervous now, once he’s seen your true nature. 

He turns to his wife, who stands behind him with a protective hand over her daughter’s chest. 

“Take her and go!” he shouts, gesturing at the tearful child clinging to her mother's hand.    
  
That _ dumb woman, why didn’t she LISTEN? What the fuck did she expect?  _   
  
You are distantly aware of the little girl screaming,  _ “Papa, please! Papa!” _ as you tear through Papa’s security team one by one.   
  
Papa isn’t listening. Instead, he’s staring, mouth agape, watching you work. You know that look. He’s beyond fear, by now. His little skinsuit’s circulatory system is throbbing with more adrenaline than its puny brain can even begin to process. At this point, it’s not so much fear coursing through him -- it’s more like reverence. He’s at least smart enough to know there’s no use in running. This is the face of a man who already knows he’s dead.   
  
Then things go sideways.   
  
You take a fist to the face, and it’s weak, human, but it knocks your head back just as another chair collides with your skull from behind. You fall to your knees and a split second later, a gun goes off in your face.   
  
_ POW. _

Nothingness. Silence.   
  
Sweet, blissful, endless oblivion.   
  
Peace...    
  
...and then you’re unceremoniously sucked back through a hole that is suddenly far too narrow to fit a human soul, but somehow your consciousness contorts itself just enough to barely squeeze through, and it’s  _ torture, _ but eventually you find yourself back on the other side of dead.   
  
“Papa no! NO!”   
  
Andrande whirls around, eyes wild. Now there’s fear again.   
  
“Get out of here!” he shouts, scooping up his little skinsquirt as she runs into his arms, crying.   
  
A beat. The skinsuits freeze, staring at the thick smoke that’s curling where you were executed the moment before. It’s a very effective distraction.   
  
** _My turn,_ ** says The Voice.   
  
Then it’s a blur. You move, but you aren’t piloting your body anymore. Neither is the security guard, once you’re behind him, seizing his shooting arm and forcing him to take down two other armed guards before you snap his neck and let his lifeless body drop, retaining your grip on the weapon you reappropriated.   
  
_ Dink!  _   
  
The Voice is laughing again, and after a second, you understand why, and you start to giggle too. 

Someone’s hit you with a spitball. 

Someone has actually blown a spitball at you, paused amid the gunfire to chew up some straw paper and launch it through the straw, right into your shoulder blade.  
  
_Wait. No. Not a spitball._   
  
But it might as fucking well have been. That shot was like taking a pellet gun to a goddamned Titan. She had to know it was just going to piss you off. 

_ Second-most important rule to remember when a killing machine is wrecking your shit? Try not to draw attention to yourself, lady. _   
  
But she didn’t follow rule number two, she shot you in the shoulder blade and then stood there like an idiot, shaking and looking at the gun in her hands with an expression on her face that you didn’t recognize then, but you recognize now: it’s the face of a person who’s just plucked an RE-45 from the floor and fired it at an enemy combatant only to realize it’s  _ not  _ an RE-45, it’s a fucking P2020. A face that says  _ oh shit, please tell me these are hammerpoint rounds _ but deep down already knows that just ain’t the case.   
  
_ Well, shit. Sorry, lady. This is kind of out of my hands now. You interfered with His plans. You also didn't follow killing machine survival rule numero uno: don't use a fucking P2020 if you want to live. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There’s _ a pause. The thing inside you snarls. Then it fires the P2020 clenched in your own hand.    
  
Mrs. Andrande isn’t as resilient to spitballs as you are.

You really didn’t mean to ruin that pretty white dress. It looked expensive. But it’s not your choice anymore, is it?   
  
A scream. “MAMA!”   
  
You look up.  _ Fuck.  _ Andrande’s getting away. 

_ Jesus, and he still has the kid. Idiot. Get back from her if you want her in one piece, you fool. And pray she doesn’t try to shoot a spitball at Us. _

They’re having an argument by Tenmei’s luxurious glass elevator.

_ “Bebe, _ you must go--”   
  
“No, Papa! Please!”   
  
Andrande shoves the little girl into the elevator, pressing his palm to the glass door once it seals shut. 

“I love you,” he says.   
  
“PAPA--”   
  
Then she’s gone, and she’s fucking lucky, because you’re already behind her father. You and your...Passenger.   
  
Someone snarls but you’re not sure who it is -- you, It, or the skinsuit you’ve just punched through the glass wall, but it doesn’t matter. None of this matters, of course. 

** _It’s just a bad dream. It’ll be over soon._ **

_ Oh...Okay. _

The smoke inside your head is making you dizzy. 

_ If You say so. _

Andrande chokes, dangling hundreds of feet above Psamanthe, above the sparkling streets of Olympus. The sun is just about to set, and lights twinkle like little stars in the shadows that are slowly beginning to creep up the buildings of the bustling city below.    
  
“W-what the hell are you?”   
  
_ Yeah. That’s always their first question. _   
  
Usually, it’s also their last.

Everything feels foggy and distant, dreamlike, obscured by the black smoke that's been coiling in your skull. You don’t even think to ask yourself how the fuck you’re managing to hold him up in the air like this. Andrande’s not huge, but he’s bigger than you.    
  
(No he isn’t.  _ You’re _ huge. You’re seven feet tall. You just don’t know that yet. But you’re about to.)   
  
_ Wait, how’d I get up here? How’d I scale this building without-- _   
  
** _Shhh, _ ** says The Voice inside your head.  ** _We’re almost done here, darling._ **

**“Death,”** it says aloud, in reply to your target’s last words.   
  


It flexes your hand, which is wrapped around Andrande’s throat. There’s a sickening crack. The target goes limp. You let go, and watch him plummet to the ground below.   
  
_ Well alrighty then. _

You feel your phone buzz, and you don’t even have to look at it to know it’s the sweet sound of ten million AC hitting your bank account. You can practically hear the  _ ka-ching! _   
  
_ Fuck yeah, mission accomplished. Next mission: hit the strip, get wasted, find something cute enough to lure into my bed. _   
  
Stepping away from the scene of the crime, you realize that at some point during the fight -- probably the part where you lifted a fully-grown man bodily from the ground, punched him through a window, and dangled him in the air -- your shoulder popped out of its socket.   
  
_ Ugh. _   
  
You pop it back in. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t question this.   
  
You do question what you see reflected back at you in one of Tenmei’s giant windows about thirty seconds later.

A piece of one of those windows is sticking out of your neck   
  
You aren’t bleeding.   
  
With trembling hands you yank the shard from where it’s lodged in the side of your neck, deep enough to reach your spinal cord.    
  
(You’ve actually got one of those! It’s a literal cord. For routing electricity. You’ll figure that out here in a minute.)

You wrench the piece of shattered elevator from your throat. You wait for the blood to come spurting out of your severed jugular.

The blood never comes, and when you look up again, your reflection flickers. Then it’s gone, and there’s a monster where there should be a man.   
  
A few sparks shoot from the puncture in your metal throat and what little blood finally begins to leak from the fresh wound is fucking  _ blue. _

You hear screaming again.   
  
This time, it is  _ definitely _ yours.

\--

“What the fuck did you do to me, skinsuit?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“You heard me, skinsuit. What the  _ fuck _ did you do to me?”

“What’re you--”   
  
“It’s my source code, isn’t it?” Revenant snarls. “You got in somehow, didn’t you? What did you DO to me?!  _ TELL ME!” _   
  
He can feel the synthskin swallow beneath the palm of his hand when that hand tightens around the hacker’s throat. He eases off, but only enough for the skinsuit to choke out an answer.   
  
“Are your ears malfunctioning, metalmouth? I said I didn’t do anything. I’d be happy to take a look at your programming if you’re experiencing some sort of--”   
  
_ “Fuck you, _ skinsuit. The last thing I need is more help from your kind.”

It was easy getting into his room. All he had to do was extend those nine inch nails and swipe one through the keycard reader.  _ Ta-daaaa. _ He was in. And the timing couldn’t have been better, because moments later, the door opened again, and the synthskin didn’t even see the giant metal spider on the ceiling of his bedroom as he entered.   
  
Revenant had been waiting for the perfect moment, but the first thing the human did was enter his bathroom. Moments later, Revenant heard the unmistakable sound of the sonic shower being activated.   
  
_ He’s vulnerable. Perfect. _   
  
He decided to wait a little longer, staying put on the bedroom ceiling. It was fine, he had  _ plenty _ of time. He’d rather avoid entering the bathroom, as high humidity didn’t really agree with his hardware.   
  
When the water turned off, he crawled across the ceiling, clinging to the area just outside the bathroom door. It opened moments later, and the skinsuit re-entered his bedoom. He was out of that pseudo-Simulacrum armor, his eyes, hair, and flesh back in their regular color scheme.

  
There is a  _ lot _ of flesh exposed, as he hasn’t yet put any clothes on.   
  
_ Even more perfect.  _

It may refuse to beg for mercy in the ring, but the Spectre was willing to bet the synthskin’s attitude might adjust itself when it was exposed and taken by surprise. Revenant let himself drop from the ceiling, landing just behind his prey.   
  
The hacker tried to turn and look, but it was far too late. A second later, both wrists were gripped tight by a metal hand, the other coming up to wrap around the hacker’s throat.   
  
“You’re just begging for trouble, aren’t you?” the Spectre growled in the skinsuit’s ear from behind, relishing the lovely little whimper that escaped him when he realized his wrists were trapped, and he wasn’t going anywhere.   
  
“If you’re going to kill me, will you get it over with? I don’t have all day,” the skinsuit replied calmly.   
  
_ The fuck is wrong with this one? Seriously. And I thought that kid with the Stim had a deathwish. _   
  
And that’s how the Revenant came to be here, towering over a half-naked skinsuit with one hand still wrapped firmly around its synthetic-skinned neck, holding it against the wall it’d just been shoved into, the other hand stroking bladed fingertips right over the spot where its heart was slamming into its little rib cage.   
  
_ This one likes to pretend, but he’s the same as the rest. He’s afraid. He just doesn’t want to admit it. _

Revenant feels the human shudder under his hands, but the words that come out of the cheeky little shit’s mouth don’t betray even the slightest hint of fear.   
  
“So you just came by to choke me, then?” the skinsuit asks him, smirking.

Revenant snarls, tightening his grip.   
  
“How. How the  _ fuck _ did you do it? It was that neural link, wasn’t it? You got about four seconds to tell me how to make it stop, you organic little shit.”   
  
“Make...what...stop?” the human gasps out, looking slightly less smug with his oxygen supply in jeopardy. 

Something about feeling the skinsuit swallow nervously beneath the sensor in the palm of his hand -- little heart pounding away beneath the other -- makes Revenant’s chest go all static-y.   
  
“Don’t play dumb with me, skinsuit. The screaming. The  _ feelings.  _ The fucking coolant! How? We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

The skinsack  _ spits in his eyehole. _   
  
_ Hard way it is, then. _

"Alright, playtime’s over," the Spectre purrs, trailing a single sharp fingertip from the hacker’s clavicle to just below his navel and chuckling at the way it makes him shudder. "All you skinsuits are the same. One slice, stem to stern, and it all comes spilling out."

The skinsuit says nothing, just continues to glare up at the robot threatening to tear him apart. 

_ The quiet type, eh? Hm. I can fix that. _

He digs his fingertips into the flesh covering the human’s chest just hard enough to draw blood. The skinsuit moans in pain, head falling back against the wall, eyes shut. The wounds aren’t deep enough to cause any real damage, but Revenant is surprised the skinsuit doesn’t scream. They always scream when he’s sunk his claws into them, but  _ shit, _ this skinsuit doesn’t even  _ cry. _   
  
The Spectre is suddenly reminded of the day the skinsuit accused  _ him _ of crying, the day it did...whatever the fuck it did to him with that drone. Recalling the memory only makes him sink those claws a little deeper, making the human trapped beneath them whine. Blood drips down the skinsuit’s exposed torso, soaking into the white towel wrapped around his narrow hips.   
  
_ Something is wrong. _

Whatever the little geek did to him, it’s fucking with his head. The sight of the blood and the gasp followed by the soft cry that escapes the human when it draws breath is so delicious it almost makes him feel dizzy. 

_ Robots do not get fucking dizzy. _   
  
“You really are malfunctioning, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever met such an unstable A.I. before,” says the skinsuit, somehow still managing to sound like he’s not having a panic attack. Somehow managing to sound smug, even with a giant metal hand wrapped around his throat, even with his pulse pounding against the palm of the Revenant's hand   
  
_ Alright, that’s it. _   
  
Revenant leans in close to the human’s pretty face, adjusting his grip on the man’s throat so that his jaw is trapped between Revenant’s thumb and forefinger. But when he does, that unnaturally-long forefinger brushes against the human’s temple, right over the spot Revenant’s seen him press to activate his optical implant while they're in the ring.   
  
An explosion of orangey-black energy suddenly erupts from the place where his hand meets the other Legend’s throat, then arcs from his fingertips to the sensor implanted in the man’s head, just beneath the skin of his temple.   
  
It feels like being electrocuted, like he’s suddenly choking one of those goddamn electric fences instead of the kid with the drone. But he can’t move, his hand is fused to the SynthSkyn around his victim’s throat, gluing him to it as if it were covered in powerful magnets instead.   
  
The memories hit him harder than the runaway train on World’s Edge.   
  
School. Taking notes. Staring at a blonde guy who wears his hair in a stupid man-bun as he writes a formula on a whiteboard. A classroom, empty except for the blonde guy. Leaning over the blonde guy’s shoulder, pretending to look at the textbook he’s reading, but looking at the blonde guy instead. A pair of trembling hands -- without any synthetics -- unbuttoning someone's shirt. A mouth at his throat, then his chest, then his--

3D printing some sort of thing with a camera lens --  _ oh, the drone, maybe an earlier prototype? _ Looking at a sign on a building that reads ‘ _ TICACEK ORPHANAGE.’ _ Making out with man bun guy. Making out with Man Bun in a dark hallway. Making out with Man Bun in a janitor’s closet. Arguing with Man Bun. Yelling at Man Bun. Crying, alone in an empty classroom.

A young woman with red hair, sitting next to him on a roof as he smokes a cigarette. Telling her “please don’t tell her about Steve.” Redhead telling her anyway. Her, an older woman with grey hair and kind eyes saying,  _ “Kick you out? Why on earth would I do that? We love you no matter who you love, sweetheart.” _ A hug. "Family forever." 

Getting fucked by the guy with the man bun. Fucking the guy with the Man Bun. Giggling when the redhead chick passes him a joint. Cumming all over Man Bun's stomach and moaning  _ "fuck, jagiya…" _

Spacing out while the redhead tells him something. The redhead laughing, saying,  _ "this is why you'll never have a girlfriend," _ and playfully punching his arm. 

Typing until his wrists ache. Selling some guy a few drones. More 3D printing. The redhead again, standing across from him. A warning. Falling asleep, then jerking awake when someone kicks down the front door. Sprinting. Being chased through Angel City. Getting shot at. Running like his life depends on it. 

Waking up with a knife to his throat, already breaking skin. His palms being sliced open as he tries to shove the knife away. Kneeing his attacker in the groin, tackling him to the ground, and strangling him with bare, bloody hands. Watching the light leave a man's eyes for the very first time. Throwing up. Crying over the corpse like a little bitch and texting somebody named Mystik. Standing outside a Vinson Dynamics facility.

Target practice. Not even coming close to landing a single bullet inside the little red rings.

Shaving off the back of his hair. The old woman asking,  _ "Are you sure?" _ Nodding.

Pain,  _ Jesus Christ, the pain. _ Pain in his left eye, like someone's gouged it out. Searing pain from his ears to his jaw to his collarbones, over his pinky and ring fingers and the palms of both hands, fuck, it  _ burns.  _ And it’s unbelievably itchy.

_ Man. I do not miss having nerve endings. _

Opening his eyes in a big white room, and projecting a little green holoscreen from one eye. Talking to his drone. Talking to his drone without moving his lips. Licking something made of silicone-- _ oh, it's skin- _ -then pulling back and looking at the pretty android beneath him. Digging around in a Vinson dumpster.

Target practice again, every shot landing inside the smallest red ring in the center of the target. Looking down at a photo ID for a guy named Hyeon Kim. Looking into a mirror and touching the SynthSkyn on his throat with a sensor in his fingertip.

Revenant pulls away, or tries to, but all it does is pull the human right along with his hand.   
  
An EMP blast. King’s Canyon on fire. Shooting a flyer out of the sky. Willingly picking up a P2020 for some unimaginable reason. An abandoned laboratory with an enormous portal. Someone sneaking up behind him. Running like hell. 

The idiot with the holosuit, again. Twisting the idiot’s arm behind his back. Shoving the idiot off a train as it goes over a bridge, then explodes. Cold, then hot. Teeth. Teeth in his thigh. A tongue, hot and slick, slipping over two little puncture wounds. Cumming so hard he blacks out, and actually  _ feeling  _ it. The idiot with the holosuit shooting the guy with the gas barrels in the head.

The bartender with the Spectre arm. The holographic idiot taking a sip of a clear liquid and promptly spraying it all over the table when he chokes. The bartender with the Spectre arm giving him a tattoo. Getting fucked by another pretty android, a different one, an older model with an anodized metal shell. 

“Fuck,” Revenant gasps, even though he doesn’t have lungs. None of it makes any sense, not the jumbled memories nor the fact that he just felt an orgasm for the first time in three-hundred years. Everything is too fast, seems out of order, it’s too confusing. Overwhelming.   
  
Holosuit guy, but without the holosuit. Holosuit guy on his knees in the shower, mouth wrapped around the hacker’s cock, synthskinned fingers fisting his curly hair and yanking his face back, then covering it in cum.

_ Fuck, that felt good… _   
  
He groans, smearing blood across the hacker’s exposed chest. From some faraway place, he hears a human whine each time he strokes a finger over the open wounds.

A nasty looking bite mark. A dark cave and an impossibly-hot mouth. Teeth in his neck, tearing it open all the way down to his shoulder. Waking up in a hospital bed. Bending holosuit boy over a different bed.   
  
A snowball smacking him in the back of the head. A woman, the one with the fancy phase-tech, giggling in the snow. Her voice in his ear, a knife to his belly. Then her lips, her tongue, her beautiful eyes flashing with Void energy when she cums, moaning  _ “Tae Joon!” _

_ Damn, this skinsuit gets around. Jesus, kid. Anyone on this planet you haven’t stuck your dick in yet? Just wondering. _

Back to dumb fuck in holosuit again, bent over a mattress in--_Christ, are they_ _in the ring?_ Dumb fuck in holosuit, but not in the holosuit. Holosuit-less dumb fuck lying naked beneath him, back arching, wrapped around his cock. Fingers with metal sensors in the tips, stroking over a scar. Holo-boy again, but he’s crying--sobbing, actually, and then cumming all over his tan, washboard abs and moaning “Fuck, Daddy! _Please! _I want you to cum in me! I _need_ it, fuck!”

_ Uh. OK. Well then. _

Then it’s gone, just as suddenly as it started, and he’s back in the skinsuit’s room, still pressing it into the wall by its throat. Revenant wrenches his hand from the skin’s neck, but the other one remains on its blood-smeared chest, keeping the fleshbag flattened against the wall.   
  
“What the  _ fuck _ was that, skinsuit?” he growls, low and dangerous. “What did you do? TELL ME! If you don’t fix this you’re getting shish-kebab’d, you sneaky little--” then he’s cut off, stumbling back in shock, letting his prey slump to the ground, gasping and rubbing at its synthetic throat.   
  
The Spectre isn’t thinking about the skinsuit anymore. He’s too busy wondering why his dick is out, tenting the fabric of his loincloth, which he most definitely did  _ not _ tell it to do. His system demands that it retract, disappear back inside of him at his command like always, but  _ his dick doesn’t listen. _

“Fuck!” he hisses, staring down at it in disbelief. Then he remembers he’s still in the skinsuit’s room, and he needs to get out before it realizes it succeeded in making his  _ dick _ malfunction.

_ It’s your lucky fuckin’ day, kid, _ he thinks, wrenching open the synthskin’s bedroom door with a snarl and slamming it shut behind him so hard his fingers leave a couple of dents in it.   
  
_ What in the FUCK just happened? _

\---   
  
_ What in the FUCK just happened? _ Park wonders, staring down at his own traitorous dick and thinking  _ holy shit, did I seriously just scare that thing off with my boner?? _

_ Holy shit. _

  
  
\--   
  


“Holy shit,” the Spectre shudders once he’s back in his own quarters, one shapeshifting metallic hand wrapped around his cock.   
  
He can  _ feel _ it.   
  
“Fuck,” he gasps, souding just like a skinsuit. “Fuck, oh  _ fuck--” _ _   
_   
He can’t stop himself from stroking it, just like a skinsuit.   
  
_ Goddamn, I can’t even remember the last time-- _

"God,  _ fuck yes…” _   
  
He may not be able to stop himself from jerking off, but he is  _ not _ going to think about a fucking skinsuit while he does it. He is  _ not _ going to think about the one that has evidently taken over his operating system and made him weak, and he is definitely not going to think about it riding his cock. He’s not thinking about the blood smeared across its chest, or how it made the Spectre desperately wish he had a tongue with which to lick said blood from the skinsuit’s pretty flesh.   
  
He’s also not going to think about that idiot with the holograms, or the fact that he now knows said idiot is not nearly as annoying when his mouth is occupied, or when he’s too busy wailing to say anything stupid. He’s not thinking about it, seriously. He’s not thinking about blowing a load of coolant all over the holo-skin’s pretty face. He’s not thinking about that woman with the phase-tech who hates him, or the fact that he now knows what she looks like crying from pleasure instead of pain, and  _ fuck, _ it’s even hotter than it is when he makes her cry in the ring, because in that synthskin’s bed, she apparently _ sobs. _   
  
_ “Nghhhh, _ shit--”

_ Stop it. Stop thinking about it. Think about Ash, or that android from the bar, or fuck, think about the MRVN if you have to, just stop fucking thinking about fucking skinsuits! Jesus! _   
  
But he can’t make himself think about any of those things. All he can think about as he fucks into his fist is the skinsuit, the one with synthetic skin. The one with synthetic skin, wrapped tight around the Spectre’s aching cock, wrists bound behind him with a strong metal hand as he rides the robot’s dick and cries, tears streaming down his cheeks. The one with synthetic skin on its knees, sucking him off, gagging around his unforgiving girth when he forces its head down on his shiny steel length. The one with synthetic skin, face shoved into a pillow as it sobs, bent over, getting fucked into its mattress by a vibrating metal cock.   
  
_ Shit, he’s so thin you could probably see it from outside of him. _   
  
“FUCK!”   
  
He spills with a snarl, and every last circuit lights up like a Christmas tree. System overload.   
  
_ What the fuck is happening to me?! I’m supposed to have a C drive, not a sex drive. Fuck! _

\--

“Fuck…” Park gasps, stroking himself steadily and trying not to think about fucking a murder robot. He's not doing a particularly good job of it.   
  
But he can't help it. He's only human, after all.   
  
I _ wonder how big it is. _   
  
He shudders, head thunking back against the shower wall as his eyes fall shut in ecstasy.   
  
_ I wonder if it vibrates. _   
  
Some water lands on the wound in his chest, and he hisses. It stings. His cock twitches in his fist.   
  
“God, yes,” he moans softly to no one in particular, least of all the big man upstairs.   
  
_ Fuck, I bet he can go for hours. Like the Energizer bunny on Stim. _   
  
He can’t help but picture it, can’t help but close his eyes and watch himself be bound and bred by a synthetic nightmare.   
  
_ “Ah! _ Please,  _ jebal, _ oh my god, please--”

It is, quite possibly, the sincerest prayer he’s ever uttered. Not that he’s uttered very many.

He’s not even sure what he’s begging for. Punishment? Mercy? A big, metal robot dick?   
  
_ I wonder if it can cum...god, and if there’s a mess afterwards. Jenjang, that is so hot… _   
  
He knew what had happened earlier had nothing to do with sex - the robot was just pissed, or confused, or malfunctioning, and apparently so horrified by the effect its methods of interrogation were having on the “skinsack” that it was willing to let him live for another day, if it meant escaping Park’s boner. Tae Joon also knew that the Spectre moaning as it dragged those razor-sharp fingers through the blood on his chest meant nothing. It was just following its programming, and could likely only find pleasure in other people’s pain. It had nothing to do with Park himself, he knew. The Spectre didn’t do it to turn him on, because getting stabbed in the chest  _ shouldn’t fucking turn you on. _   
  
Except it did. Even though there was no way the robot knew about his...sexual proclivities.

But that didn’t stop him. It didn’t stop him from wondering what those cold, hard lips would feel like against his throat. It didn’t stop him from picturing himself at its mercy (or lack thereof) once again, one of its sharp metal hands tightly squeezing his neck, the other wrapped around his cock as the Spectre fucks him from behind, that deep voice in his ear, laughing at the way he whines when it slows its movements.   
  
“Please, fuck…”

_ You are so disgusting, Tae Joon. Seriously. The fuck is wrong with you? That thing almost killed you just now! _   
  
_ “Ah!” _ he gasps, beginning to shudder as his orgasm approaches and he tries desperately to stave it off for another moment or two. “God...”   
  
It  _ did _ almost kill him, another few seconds and it probably would have shoved those fingers into his chest far enough to rip his pounding heart right out of it.   
  
Somehow  _ that’s _ what makes it hot.   
  
“Yes,  _ fuck, _ please make it hurt,” he cries out to no one, trembling at his own touch. “Please. Don’t be gentle with me, I don’t deserve it. _ Nghhh,  _ I don’t deserve to touch you,  _ fuck...” _   
  
He can almost hear it in his head, feel it leaning forward to rest that metal chin on his shoulder and growl,  _ “I know exactly what you deserve, skinsuit. Don’t worry, I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to you,” _ as it buries that big metal cock inside him.   
  
_ “Ah! Ah! _ Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck-- _ YES!” _   
  
Tae Joon’s eyes water with the intensity of his orgasm as he shudders, whimpering softly with every spurt of cum that streaks across the glass shower door.   
  
“Holy  _ fuck,” _ he gasps, though he’s pretty sure what he just did only counts as an  _ un _ holy fuck.   
  


_ Renee’s right. You are a fucking mess, dude. _

\----

A week later, he’s even more of a mess.

“How the _ fuck _ did you find me, Steve?” Park hisses, slamming the blonde man in the Vinson Dynamics t-shirt against the wall.  _ “Soljikhage malheh!” _   
  
They’re in the undercarriage of the dropship, where Park has just finished smoking his fifth cigarette of the day. Hyeon Kim may have switched to vaping, but Tae Joon Park? Yeah, it’s...a little more complicated with him.   
  
Steve rolls his eyes, because of course he fucking does. He doesn’t have any idea who Tae Joon has had to become since the last time they saw each other.   
  
_ “Baegchi!” _ Park snaps, because it’s true -- for a smart guy, Steve is being a fucking idiot. “You’re going to get us both killed with your foolishness. This isn’t a game!”

“You really think you’re slick, don’t you? How the fuck d’you think I found you, dumbass? I looked on TV and there’s my ex -- my _ dead _ ex -- absolutely  _ wrecking _ Alexander Freakin’ Nox with, of all things, a fucking P2020. You’re not exactly being subtle, despite all the hardware.” 

_ Fuuuuuuuck. _

“Did it hurt?” Steve reaches out to touch the synthetic skin of his jaw. “The skin, I mean. The guys in Organics say the skin hurts the wo--”   
  
Park catches the man’s wrist before his hand can make contact.   
  
“Are you trying to get me killed?” Tae Joon shouts, shoving the curious hand away. “Are you trying to get  _ you _ killed?”   
  
“Well, to be fair, I thought you were already dead,” Steve says with that crooked, handsome grin of his, the one that makes Park’s chest ache with guilt.   
  
“Anyway, if you’re done threatening me, I would love a chance to get to my actual point for coming here, which is to drag you kicking and screaming to Vinson HQ, so they can get you some new gear before that thing murders you. You’ve been holding your own just fine, but after what happened on OTV, everyone's a little nervous. They’d kind of like to keep you breathing...not that they can’t piece you back together, but still, that thing is scary.”    
  
Park just stares blankly, vaguely wondering why the people at Vinson would want to keep a trespassing, arm-thieving, accused murderer breathing.   
  
“Seriously, what the fuck difference does it make? Half your shit is stolen or scavenged from us, anyway. They’re inviting you to step out of the dumpster,” Steve added, somehow managing to look serious as he said it. “Then again, I can’t say I’m too surprised you’re reluctant. You love tiny little claustrophobic places that don’t give you enough room to breathe -- our dumpsters, this sardine can they call a dropship, the closet…"

_ Oof. _

"Seriously," he went on. "How is it everyone _here_ knows you fuck dudes but nobody knows your real na--”  
  
“Shut up, you _fucking idiot!”_ Park snaps, not bothering to switch to his native tongue to insult the man, as is his normal custom.  
  
It wouldn’t matter. Steve’s evidently gotten a little hardware of his own installed since the last time they saw each other. Park can see the metal bits of the object that’s been implanted in his skull, just behind his ear. A translator.  
  
_Great. It’s like he spent the last six years engineering a way to ruin my life._  
  
“Relax,” says Steve when Park whips around to look in the direction of a sound that was becoming far too familiar -- the sound of metal scraping metal. “Nobody’s down here--”  
  
He stops, mid sentence, because the sound of metal feet approaching has proven him wrong before he’s even finished his sentence. Even Steve has the good sense to look a little bit scared.  
  
_Please be Silva, please be Silva, please be Silva--_ Park thinks, for the first time in his life.  
  
Hopefully it’s Silva, and hopefully Silva thinks the cigarette smoke that’s hanging in the air only belongs to Steve.  
  
The intruder turns the corner, coming into view as it descends the stairs to the drop platforms, eyeing the pair of humans suspiciously.  
  
_The fuck is it doing down here? Don’t you have a skinsuit with actual skin to be terrorizing, or something?_  
  
The robot rips open a velcro pouch on his chest, reaching in with two razor-sharp fingers to pull out a little red and white boox, plucking a small, thin column of white...something from within it.  
  
Park doesn’t realize it’s a cigarette until the Simulacrum places it between those awful metal lips and brings his thumb up to the other end, igniting it with a tiny blowtorch that appears to have come out of his thumb itself, and was surely a feature intended for welding and making small on-the-go repairs, not cigarette smoking.  
  
_Fuck me, the murder fingers do fire, too? Great. That’s just fucking great._   
  
_Uh, also...the robot _**_smokes? _**

_Meh. I guess it fits. I’d be a walking chimney if I knew these wouldn’t kill me…__  
__  
__...and_ _make Elliott upset._  
  
The robot gazes down through the gaps in the drop platform, watching the earth below with a bored sort of look about him.  
  
“That,” Steve whispers, nodding towards the Spectre. “Is why you need to come on Saturday. Or are you planning on taking that thing down and fixing it all by yourself?”  
  
“It is none of your business what--why the hell would I want to _fix _it?” he breathes, praying its audio inputs are too old and damaged to hear this ridiculous argument they’re having.  
  
“Jesus, Tae Joon,” Steve says, rubbing one of his pretty hazel eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still think you can do everything all by yourself.”  
  
“I _can. _Whatever your bosses want, I don’t have time for it. If they want a drone, they can get in line like everybody else, kinda ran out of time to run a business when I started running for my life. I do _not_ need help from--”  
  
“Bullshit,” Steve snaps. “Bullshit you don’t need help. Christ, this isn’t Cryptography or Calc III -- you can’t cram it all in the night before and ace the test like you did in undergrad. What, are you planning on taking the Syndicate down all by yourself, too?”  
  
The robot looks up.  
  
“Not if you fucking get me killed first, idiot,” Park replies, with a pointed glare in the Spectre’s general direction.   
  
“Look, just--just be there Saturday, okay? Just show up. You don’t have to make any promises, and you’ll come out of it with a fuckton of new Vinson loot and I _know_ you can’t resist that,” Steve says, smiling that crooked little smile again. “At the very least, it’ll save you some time on dumpster-diving.”  
  
_Jenjang! I have got to start using Elliott’s holo-shroud when I do that from now on._

  
“Fine. Whatever. Will you please just go before--”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve interrupts, whispering loudly enough it can probably be heard groundside and shoving a business card in Park’s hand. “Look, I know you hate corporate anything, but as far as capitalist pigs go, we’re quite a few rungs below your buddies at the Syndicate. If there’s one thing Vinson knows, it’s how to deal with Sims. Back in the day we actually salvaged and rebuilt that one Cooper wrecked in the War. I figured that might interest you, Syndicate bad-bot gone good and all.”   
  
“Yes, I  _ know--” _

He  _ does _ know. He’s read the Wikipedia page on the Simulacrum known as Ash so many times he’s basically got it memorized.   
  
“You know everything,” says Steve, rolling his eyes again. “Or you think you do, anyway. Look, just show up, will you? For me?  _ Please?” _ _   
_   
_ Okay, that’s not fair. _   
  
_ “Jenjang! _ Fine! Now will you  _ please--” _   
  
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” his ex replies, running a hand through the long blonde hair that’s twisted into a bun at the back of his skull.   
  
_ God, how did you manage to make a man bun attractive? _   
  
Steve turns to go, pressing a button on his palm to activate the thrusters on his jetpack. He pauses, turning back to Tae Joon.   
  
“You trusted me once,” he says softly, staring at the floor. “And you apparently trusted Vinson enough to let them put you under for all those surgeries, so I don’t see what the fucking problem is. Be there, for once, you self-centered asshole. You owe me that, at the very fucking least.”   
  
_ Fuck, he’s right. God dammit.  _

_ Why does he always have to be right? It’s so annoying. _   
  
Park is silent, because he doesn’t know what to say to that. The sting of that last sentence hangs awkwardly in the air between them for a moment, but then Steve’s back to his usual, unfailingly charismatic self, the pain in his voice disappearing like one of Elliott’s holograms. 

“And hey -- bring your friends. Anybody interested in not taking a metal arm to the chest. Vinson knows about the name situation, they’re not going to out you.”   
  
He’s pretty sure he hears him mumble  _ “God fuckin’ forbid somebody out you,” _ under his breath as he turns away.    
  
_ Ugh. _   
  
He’s also pretty sure Steve isn’t talking about outing him as a murderer anymore.   
  
_ Fuck. I am such a monster. _   
  
Then Steve turns and jumps, and Park watches with amazement (and envy) as his Vinson-brand jetpack sends him flying  _ up _ instead of down.   
  
_ Man. That is so fucking cool. It would be so nice to be able to redeploy without hunting down a big red balloon. Wonder if I can get one of those jetpacks on Saturday… _   
  
_ If I show up. _   
  
Something heavy and metallic lands on the floor behind him, nearly causing him to jump out of his synthetic skin. Evidently the Spectre had scuttled across the ceiling while his back was turned. He pivots to look at it, already thinking  _ see, Steve? I told you this would get me killed! _   
  
But for whatever reason, the Spectre doesn’t immediately gut him like a fish.   
  
It  _ does _ take a few threatening steps forward, however, moving right into the hacker’s space. Park doesn’t even realize that he’s backing away until his shoulder blades make contact with the wall. He takes a deep breath. He is  _ not  _ going to let it scare him. It hasn’t killed anyone else outside the ring, and it’s been weeks now. There’s a reason for that. Still, until he knows for certain what that reason is, Park isn’t trying to get up close and personal with the thing.   
  
But since he doesn’t seem to have a choice at the moment, it’s time for a little intel collection. Park has a hypothesis. Well,  _ Min  _ has a hypothesis. But Park is starting to think she might be right, and he likes the odds enough to push his luck a little.   
  
“What are you looking at, metalmouth?” he says, glaring up at the enormous murderbot and praying he doesn’t sound as shaky as he feels. 

The Spectre shrugs. “A scared little skinsuit.”

Park reaches into his coat pocket, retrieving the half-empty pack of cigarettes, because he is suddenly in desperate need of something to do with his trembling hands. The Spectre’s still holding a lit cig between two of those lethal fingers, staring down at him like a predator that’s trying to decide between having a snack now, or saving it for later. Tae Joon swallows nervously, and prays his new...well, it’s not an outfit, really, it’s a cross between shield and skin (one he designed himself, with Evelyn’s help) -- is strong enough to keep him alive until Ajay can repair whatever terrible shit this thing is undoubtedly about to do to him. The new armor makes him look like a synthetic, like a current-gen Simulacrum with exceptionally nice hair (that also happens to be exceptionally blue). His skin now appears shiny and feels hard to the touch, and is whiter than the snow on Talos. That skin is also a shield -- a weak one, and he can still feel the impact of any weapon that might wish to punch through it, but it’s better than hanging out on the dropship without  _ some  _ sort of insurance against this metal monster, without some sort of protective shell to give him the half a second he needs to react. 

Park’s eyes are all black, save for the aqua glow of his irises. Gazing up into those terrifying yellow eyes, he’s hoping that looking like a synth might make the one in front of him less likely to kill him without a second thought. It won't fall for it, of course, but perhaps if he appears more synthetic than human, he can probe the Spectre for information about the Syndicate without it probing his chest with that terrible arm.   
  
“That’s interesting,” Park says, bringing the cigarette to his lips and fishing around in one of his pants pockets for a lighter. “Because I don’t see any scared little skinsuits down here.”   
  
_ Ugh, why do I have so many pockets? Where the fuck--oh.  _

He remembers the last person to use the lighter was Steve, then realizes that Steve never handed it back.   
_   
_ _ Damn you, Steve! _   
  
The Spectre laughs.

“Need a light?”   
  
A second later there’s a sharp metal thumb in his face. The tip flicks back, opens just like a Zippo lighter, only instead of a small, candle-like flame, there’s a tiny blowtorch -- butane or propane, or  _ shit, maybe plasma. _ He can feel his eyes going wide, and he knows the Sim can see it, because it laughs again.   
  
“There he is,” says the robotic killer. His face doesn’t move, but somehow his voice sounds like he’s smiling. “See? Told you there was a scared little fleshpuppet around here somewhere.”   
  
_ Well, can’t back down now. _

What? He  _ does _ need a light.

Park leans in, touching the unlit end of the cigarette to the open flame and pulling in a lungful of smoke, not shifting his gaze from the Spectre’s frightening visage. Then Park’s cigarette is lit and the robot’s lighter-thumb has extinguished itself, yet the Simulacrum doesn’t move, continuing to crowd him against the wall. A very,  _ very _ small amount of the tension in Tae Joon’s shoulders relaxes just slightly.    
  
He exhales smoke into its face. This, obviously, has precisely zero effect, but at least it’s adequately rude.   
  
“Can I help you?” Park asks. “Oh wait, that’s right -- you don’t need help from  _ ‘my kind.’” _   
  
“I  _ don’t,” _ the Spectre hisses, blowing its own smoke into his face.    
  
“That why your elbow’s been sparking ever since Renee ripped it off in the ring?” Park asks casually, pretending to fiddle with his smartwatch like he has better things to do.   
  
The Spectre snarls, and before Park can even blink, there’s a metal hand around his throat. Again.   
  
_ Whoops. Too far. _   
  
He’s getting so used to the pants-shitting fear of imminent death, it’s kind of starting to lose its scare factor.   


  
\-----   
  
He wasn’t going to. Really. He wasn’t going to even _ look _ at that stupid skinsuit -- ever again, if he could help it -- let alone touch it again, except to impale it on his bladed forearm in the ring. 

But then he’d gone down for a smoke, and it was just...just  _ there. _

_ This is my secret smoke-spot, god dammit, why is this little shit down here? And who’s the blonde guy? Wonder if he’s cheating on that little twink with the holograms. How scandalous. _   
  
Skinsuits are all the same.  _ ‘Oh no, we only have a few decades to spend together, lets waste all of it fucking one person, or lying to that person while fucking everyone else!’ _   
  
If there’s one thing all skinsuits fear, it’s the truth of their own pathetic weaknesses, and being forced to face them. When you’re unkillable, you eventually have to accept what you are -- whatever the fuck you are, whether that's a giant killbot or a half-synthetic little slut -- and face the truth. Escape the Shadows.   
  
The blonde guy is wearing a Vinson Dynamics t-shirt. It piques Rev’s interest. Then the skinsuit mentions his ex.   
  
_ Is she really an ex, though? _

She didn’t break up with him so much as she just sort of...got exploded to death by Jack Cooper.   
  
_ Shit, they rebuilt her? That crazy bitch could still be out here somewhere?! Holy SHIT. I gotta track her down.  _

If there’s anyone who can figure out -- or at the very fucking least, distract him from -- whatever the fuck is happening to him, it’s Ash. Revenant isn’t sure if robots can have “Daddy Issues,” but if they can, she definitely did. 

_ God, the sex was amazing. And shit, I couldn’t even feel it back then! _   
  
That had been another thing Ash had tried to help him fix -- unsuccessfully. He’d spent centuries overwhelmed by jealousy that there were Sims out there who were programmed to feel something besides pain. It wasn’t  _ fair. _ But it wasn’t until the Syndicate sent Ash to hunt him down that he discovered pain and pleasure are separated by a very fine line.   
  
Tragically, the Syndicate isn’t in the habit of programming their synths with the knowledge to repair and reprogram themselves. If they did, they’d lose control of all their little electronic slaves. Once you’ve had that severe-spinal-cord-trauma moment of truth, there’s no going back.   
  
He’s reminded of that a lot lately, now that he can feel pleasure again. Pleasure is just a different kind of pain. One that reminds him that deep down, he's a skinsuit, too.   
  
But in those days, pain had been all he could feel. Somehow, Ash made pain feel  _ good. _ At some point during their first battle, something changed. He was beneath her, with those fierce little metal hands around his throat -- probably about to liberate his head from the rest of his body. But then she stopped, leaned down, and pressed their mouths together instead.   
  
Robots can’t breathe, of course, but they’re capable of inhaling and exhaling, as the ability to blow a strand of synthetic hair out of one’s face -- or sand out of one’s knee joints -- is a very valuable one indeed.   
  
Not being able to breathe didn’t stop him from gasping when their lips met, however. She was like nothing Revenant had ever seen before. She wasn’t nearly as old as him, but she wasn’t fresh from the factory, either. She was  _ perfect. _ All metal and plastic from the neck down, but soft, silicone SynthSkyn covered her face, and she had a  _ tongue. _ She didn’t even recoil when she slid it between his lips and discovered that he  _ didn’t. _

The violent, earth-shaking sex that followed was the closest he had come to feeling pleasure in centuries. This wasn’t your average _ ‘oh, I’m so kinky! Yeah baby, put it in my USB port!’ _ kind of sex. This was  _ insane.  _ This was leave-a-dent-in-the-wall sex. This was fry-your-circuitboard sex. This was sex with someone as self-destructive as him. He’d never met a synth like him before.   
  
When it was over, she lit up a cigarette.   
  
“One of us has gotta get hurt,” she had told him. “Or they’ll come looking for us both. I may be aware of who I work for, but I can’t really argue with my programming, you know?”   
  
“Yeah,” Rev said, taking a drag. “I know.”   
  
“So you’re gonna have to beat me up.”   
  
“Uh....”   
  
“I’d do it myself, but y’know. Fuckin’ programming. Self-preservation protocols and all that bullshit.”   
  
He generally tried to avoid beating up ladybots. Leftover chivalry from his days as a skinsuit, when gender actually correlated to physical strength in a way that mattered. It was dumb to even care -- shit, she’d already left plenty of dents in his metal shell, and that was just from the sex.

_ Well, okay...and a few bullets. _

_ God, she’s fucking kinky. Is this what the skinsuits mean by 'love at first sight?' Or first fight, or whatever. Man, I could fuck her till the day I die. _

_ (Ha. Hahahahaha.) _ _   
_ _   
_ “If you want them to send me after you again, you’re gonna have to get over it, Romeo,” she said with an eyeroll.    
  
Well, it was probably an eyeroll. This Sim’s eyes were entirely black from sclera to pupil, iris and all. It was kind of hard to tell when they were moving.   
  
“You sure about this?” he asked a few minutes later, with a hand wrapped around one of her biceps.   
  
“Yep, do you worst,” she said, like she wasn’t asking him to rip her fucking arm off. “Make it look good. Leave a couple dents in my neck and scrape some paint off on me, too. Nothing they’ve sent after you has even come close to what qualifies as actually fighting you, let alone surviving to tell the tale. We need to make it look like you won, but just barely. They’ll fix me up and you’ll see me again in, like, a week. Trust me. Anyway, it’s not a big deal, I won’t feel it. I’m not programmed to feel pain.”   
  
“Whatever you say, dollface,” the Revenant replied.   
  
Ash giggled. She’s still giggling a few minutes later, even after he’s torn her arm from the socket and tossed it into a nearby dumpster outside the factory.

_ She gets a tongue AND she’s not programmed to feel pain? Damn, she has no idea how fuckin’ lucky she is. _   
  
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, pausing at the entrance to the factory after a rather heated goodbye kiss. “When you see me again, I probably won’t know who you are.”   
  
_ Oof. Not that lucky. Christ.  _

_ Those fucking SCUM. I’m killing every last one of them, fuck this 'code of honor' bullshit, I don’t give a fuck if this batch of skinsuits wasn’t around to torture me back in the day. No one fucking deserves this. Death is more merciful than this...this mockery of free will. _

That’s the moment he resolves to hunt every last one of them down. Hammond, Syndicate, IMC -- whatever the fuck is left of them, even though he's already taken down anyone with the slightest ties to what was done to him all those centuries ago -- whoever's still left is going to die. That’ll give him something to occupy his time with for the next couple of decades. And they'll all fucking deserve it. He’s desperately needed to kill something these last two days, since the day at the restaurant, when he realized what he was. Now he knows who he ought to start with.   
  
He mentally makes an edit to The List. The name in spot numero uno now reads  _ KUBEN BLISK. _

_ Bastard. _

Unfortunately, the merc ringleader is smarter than he looks. And harder to hunt down, apparently.

  
“But uh, yeah,” Ash continues, the apples of her pale cheeks going a funny shade of blue all of a sudden. “If you do that thing with your fingers in my disk drive again, we’re gonna be fast friends the next time I see you. Trust me.”   
  
Rev laughs.

"See you 'round, big guy."

She winks, because whoever designed her evidently had the grace to give her eyelids. Then she’s gone.

_ Later, dollface. _   
  
He never sees her again, and when he reads the article in  _ The Outlands Journal  _ about her defeat at the hands of Jack Cooper, he wants to be angry. He wants to be furious. He wants to  _ want  _ to hunt her killer down and make the skinsuit pay.   
  
But he doesn’t, because he knows for a fact that she’s better off dead, and his efforts are better focused on her creators than the architect of her end. It doesn’t matter what kind of synth you are at your core when those skinsuits are programming you to be their plaything. She had a delightfully rebellious streak, but she was still Syndicate property at the end of the day. Death was far more merciful than an eternity as a skinsuit slave. And if those monsters ever found out what had happened between them, they wouldn’t hesitate to use her against him.   
  
No, death was a mercy. Jack Cooper did her a kindness. He did his fellow skinsuits a kindness, too, because she'd have undoubtedly slaughtered innumerable innocents. Not that it mattered.  _ Fuck skinsuits. _ _   
_   
Deep down, Revenant was still a little jealous of her. Deep down, he wished Jack Cooper had come for him instead. Then again, Ash didn't have crazy robot-ghost powers, so there was no guarantee it would have worked anyway.   
  
But if she wasn’t dead? Or -- from the sound of it, if she had been repaired, granted freedom -- that changed a few things. That meant there were potentially  _ two _ Syndicate-hating murder robots stalking the Outlands, and one of them had a corporate sponsor who wasn’t too fond of those brainwashing, memory-wiping bastards, either.   
  
\--   
  
He doesn’t know why his ex is what comes to mind when he wraps a hand around the synthskin’s SynthSkyn and squeezes. Maybe it’s the fact that the skinsuit doesn’t look like he’s about to faint from the sheer terror -- but that makes sense, because this is now the second time he’s choked the little shit out without actually finishing the job.   
  
_ God, what is wrong with me? I’ve gone soft. _   
  
He hasn’t, though. If anything, he’s gone hard. He can feel the tip of his cock peeking from his pelvic unit, trying to decide if it’s interested in the proceedings.   
  
_ God dammit, Dick! Do what I tell you! _   
  
He takes a deep breath, seeking oxygen he doesn’t need, and focuses on not remembering how pretty this synthskin looks without its clothes on, covered in blood. 

Like anything that one attempts to focus on not focusing on...it’s all he can focus on.   
  
_ Fuck! Get it together, rustbucket! _   


“It’s none of your fucking business whether my elbow is fucking sparking,” he snarls, tightening his grip on the skinsuit’s artificial throat. “Trust me, skinbag. I can make sparks come out of you, too.”   
  
The skinsuit swallows against the palm of his hand, gazing up at him with a neutral expression, like it’s  _ not _ about to piss its pants. It’s infuriating.   
  
“You think you’re different, that you’re  _ special,” _ Revenant sneers, leaning down close to the skinsuit’s pretty face, close enough he can see the yellow glow of his opticals reflecting off its shiny white skin. “Well I got news for you, skinsuit: you’re not any different. You’re just like the rest of them -- assorted goop, wrapped in a skinsack. That’s all you are, and it doesn’t matter how much fucking hardware you get installed, you will  _ always _ be a skinsuit.”   
  
“Like you?”   
  
“What the _ fuck _ did you just say to me, you little shit?”   
  
The skinsuit -- he doesn’t know what the fuck to call it, because the other skinsuits can’t seem to decide between “Hyeon,” “Park,” or “Crypto” -- smirks. There’s a seven-foot-tall robot choking it out against a wall, nobody within earshot to even hear it scream, and it is  _ smirking _ at him.   
  
“Well, you said ‘you’ll always be a skinsuit,’” the skinsuit says, trying to imitate Revenant’s voice and failing spectacularly. “And I said, ‘like you?’ Why, are your audio inputs malfunctioning too, old man? They’re getting pretty rusty by now, aren’t they? Probably all that smoke damage.”   
  
_ What? How does he know?! How the fuck would he know what I am, I’m so old I don’t even look like the current-gen Sims. How the hell does he know there’s a person in here? _   
  
“What the  _ fuck _ are you talking about, fleshpuppet?” Revenant seethes into the skinsuit’s face.    
  
“Really, playing dumb? I’m surprised, that doesn’t seem like you,” Park says, continuing with that insufferable smirking. “I’m not an expert, but I’ve met a few androids. Never met one that smokes, though. Kind of doesn’t make sense to program that into your murder machine. You may not have  _ goop  _ on the inside, but there’s a skinsuit in you all the same, isn't there?”   
  
“Fuck you,” the Spectre hisses.   
  
_ This skinsuit must be suicidal. That’s the only way to explain it. Why else would he keep flirting with Death like this? _   
  
“I’ll show you some goop, skinsuit,” Revenant purrs, giving that pretty little throat another squeeze.   
  
Then he’s flicking the butt of his cigarette onto one of the drop platforms and extending a single metal forefinger into a long, lethal blade. The skinsuit’s eyes are wide, and his pulse is kicking harder against the sensors in the palm of the Revenant’s other hand, like a flatline with no stock. There’s fear in those black and blue eyes, but not nearly enough of it. 

_ That’s okay. It’s coming. _

He relishes the little gasp that escapes the man when a razor-sharp fingertip shreds his shirt right down the middle in a single stroke. That pulse against his palm is thudding quicker now. Harder.  _ Tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump. _

_ Good. _   
  
He’s not going to kill it. Not yet, anyway. Not when it might know Ash’s whereabouts, or be able to find out where she is. He’s just going to teach it a lesson, for now.   
  
The soft little  _ “ah!” _ when he drags that finger down the human’s chest is even sweeter than the gasp.

_ Thump-thump-thump-thump-- _   
  
It’s not a deep gash, just deep enough to break through that weird psuedo-Sim skinshield and put some red on that pale plastic shell. Blood blooms from the wound he’s made in the center of the skinsuit’s chest, a single drop of red beginning to roll down his toned stomach, towards his navel.   
  
That wounded chest is heaving now as the little skinsuit gasps for oxygen, breath stolen by the shock of pain, blocked from returning by the metal hand that is tightening around its throat.   
  
“It’s just like I said,” the Revenant tells him, trailing a razor-sharp fingertip from the skinsuit's sternum to its lower stomach, but not breaking any more skin, for some reason. “One slice is all it would take. A few centimeters of skinsuit is all that stands between me and your goop being all over this floor. You’re only breathing right now because I fuckin’ _ let  _ you.”   
  
“I know,” the skinsuit says.   
  
It’s infuriating. He doesn’t know what, exactly. He doesn’t know why. But all of it, everything, is grating on his nerves. This skinsuit, his stupid Simulacrum costume, that godforsaken drone. That muscled chest and the blood dripping down it, the pulse pounding against his palm. That  _ smirk, _ and whatever the _ fuck _ is happening to him since he took that drone to the face -- all of it pisses the Revenant off.   
  
He’s pretty sure it wasn’t intentional now, whatever had happened when the skinsuit whacked him in the skull with the drone, because the skinsuit hadn’t immediately spilled the beans and begged for mercy when he’d interrogated it afterwards. That’s usually a pretty good indicator they’re telling the truth -- that, and the way their pulse rockets skyward when they tell a lie. This skinsuit’s pulse had kicked up from the metal hand around his neck, but stayed even after that, so he probably wasn’t totally full of shit. Still, intentional or not, the skinsuit needed to pay -- needed to pay for what it had done to him, what it was  _ still doing _ to him. Needed to pay for having the nerve to fuck with him in the fist place.   
  
But for some inexplicable reason, clearly some sort of error in his program or flaw in his design, the Revenant doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, he does exactly what he did the first time, because he’s a fucking idiot.   
  
He lets the hand around that gorgeous SynthSkyn drop to the human’s wounded chest, smearing red across a plane of pale, plastic-white.   
  
_ Fuck, that’s hot… _   
  
The skinsuit shudders when the Spectre's fingers brush the wound itself, but he isn’t crying. He doesn’t even look scared. Shit, he looks less scared than he did  _ before _ his goop was dripping down his chest, and when the Spectre digs his claws into another patch of unmarked flesh, the skinsuit moans and bites his lip. Almost like he  _ likes _ it.   
  
_ What the hell is wrong with this one? Seriously! _   
  
He’s met skinsuits that like to ride the fine line between pain and pleasure, but not like this. Not most of them, anyway. And the few that wanted him to make them bleed were already impaled on an enormous metal dick when they begged for it, and thus probably not thinking particularly clearly.    
  
_ How else do you explain that shit? Skinsuits aren’t supposed to  _ ** _like _ ** _ bleeding. _

It’s not being held against the wall by its throat anymore, the skinsuit could run. Or have the decency to _ try,  _ at least. But the drone pilot makes no move to escape, just watches the Spectre’s face with fascination as it fingerpaints with his blood and stares back, gazing at the mess it’s making of his chest with equal fascination.   
  
“You don’t want to kill me,” the skinsuit says softly, and it isn’t a threat -- it’s stated neutrally, like it’s an undeniable scientific fact. “You  _ wish _ you wanted to kill me. But you don’t.”   
  
Just when Revenant’s about to mentally smack himself and beg his dick to  _ PLEASE BEHAVE,  _ he realizes something. Something so surprising he actually takes a step back, letting his goop-soaked hand drop from the skinsuit’s chest.   
  
The skinsuit -- the wounded, bleeding,  _ trembling  _ skinsuit -- has an erection. There’s no mistaking it in those obscenely-tight pants.   
  
The skinsuit is still afraid, of course. But not nearly as much as he should be, as the rest of them would be with bladed fingers piercing their skin. He’s afraid, but he  _ likes  _ it.

A shudder runs through the Revenant now, like he’s just walked through one of those damned electric fences. He doesn’t even have to look to know his own cock is standing at attention too, still refusing to listen to his commands.   
  
He’ll be damned if he gives the skinsuit a chance to notice that, though.   
  
In a flash, he's stepped into the skinsuit’s personal space again, pressing him back into the wall. A metal hand slips between them, and the skinsuit actually cries out when Revenant wraps those lethal, murderous fingers around the clothed outline of the human’s cock and gives it a good hard squeeze.   
  
“Fuck…” breathes the synthskin, and not in a  _ hey-can-you-stop _ kind of way.   
  
_ Now that’s more like it. _

“Yeah, I bet you’d fuckin’  _ love _ that.”   
  
_ Shit,  _ ** _I_ ** _ would… _

_ No I would not. Fuck’s sake, Brain. We are not fucking this smug little half-skin. It ain’t fuckin’ happening.  _   
  
The Spectre releases its grip on the human’s cock, then reaches out, snatching the still-lit cigarette that the skinsuit has somehow managed not to drop. Taking a drag, he watches its face. It looks eager, not afraid. 

He’s going to teach it a lesson about eager little fleshbags who aren’t scared of  _ fucking murderbots _ the way that they should be. 

_ Lets see how bad you want it once you realize I don’t have a tongue, synthskin. _   
  
That’s always when the curious ones start to regret that pesky curiosity. This skinsuit is  _ definitely  _ a curious one. That’s all it is. That’s all it  _ ever _ is. Novelty with a side of pure idiocy. The Spectre never reads into it, never gives them the opportunity to get bored and toss him aside like a broken vibrator. Why the hell would he?

_ Fuck that shit. You scare them shitless with that tongueless mouth and make them hate themselves for ever wanting to fuck you to begin with.  _ ** _That _ ** _ is what you do with a curious skinsuit.  _

_ If they’re lucky, you still let 'em cum.  _

_ Maybe.  _

_ If they’ve been good. _ _   
_   
But this skinsuit isn’t just curious, it’s fucking  _ insane. _ It’s crazier than the one with metal legs. At least that little shit has the good sense not to test Revenant’s patience, has the good sense to  _ fear _ him.

The Revenant blows smoke in the human’s face, then takes another drag. Something about this skinsuit has all his wires crossed. That’s the only explanation for what happens next.   
  
The smoke doesn't fill his lungs, because he doesn't have any (unless you count the rubbery balloons in his chest, which he doesn’t, because they’re only there to keep him from sinking if he gets thrown into a body of water), but it still lights up certain sensors, the ones that are supposed to warn him about dangerous environments. Smoke means fire and fire, even to a Simulacrum, can be deadly. Why else would he smoke cigarettes? It’s not like he can feel that sweet, sweet nicotine. Not anymore. 

But the smoke makes him keenly aware of everything, his sensors tuned in to every change in the world around him, just in case this time, the smoke actually means there's a fire nearby.   
  
He hands the cigarette back, now stained with the blood that still coats his fingertips. He’s not even sure why, but it’s better than doing any of the other things his brain is telling him to do with his hands. The skinsuit takes it with trembling fingers, and surprisingly, puts it to his mouth and inhales. His own blood is on his lips when his hand moves away and he flicks the end of the cigarette across the underbelly of the dropship, sending little orange embers skittering across the metal floor.   
  
Revenant likes smoke. This kind, anyway. The kind that doesn’t fill his head and obscure his vision and make him think and crave and do things even worse than what he’s spent the last decade or two doing to the Syndicate. The kind that doesn’t come with madness, that doesn’t come with The Voice. Cigarette smoke is different. It’s not like the thick black smoke with the embers, the smoke that chokes him even though he doesn’t need to breathe. Cig smoke is okay. Most skinsuits hate it, but that just makes him like it more.

But inhaling the smoke directly from the skinsuit's lungs is another experience altogether. It's like a kiss, or it would be, if kissing was something that robot assassins did. The crazy little shit doesn’t even recoil, just leans into it like he  _ wants _ that tongueless mouth against his own. Revenant steals the synthsuit's breath away and growls when it makes him squirm from the lack of oxygen. 

_ So fucking fragile, they are. Stop their breathing and everything else goes, too. _

Then the synthsuit sucks the smoke back into its own lungs from inside the Revenant, taking yet another part of the Simulacrum into itself. His coolant tears, his razor-sharp fingertips, his very breath -- the synthsuit shies away from none of it, from none of him, and that sort of stupid recklessness shouldn't be a turn on but gods above and demons below, he's turned on anyway.   
  
(Well, okay. He’s always ‘turned on,’ if you want to get technical about it. But right now he’s  _ aroused. _ So aroused it’s quickly becoming physically uncomfortable.)

The skinsuit gasps again when, against his better judgement, the Revenant rolls his metal hips forward and lets it feel his aching cock pressing into its bare belly, smearing even more blood across the human’s torso. Then it fucking  _ whimpers, fuck, _ and grinds its own arousal against the Spectre’s thigh. Revenant’s facial recognition software can’t seem to tell if the skinsuit’s expression is saying  _ stop _ or  _ keep going. _ It looks like it’s in pain, but also like it wants _ more. _

He doesn't fuck the synthsuit in the undercarriage of the ship, but he does shove two long, gleaming fingers into its mouth and watches as the smoke curls out around them. He feels the hacker's breath on his palm, warmed by the smoke and the uptick of heat in that hot little body, feels the pulse beating away where his fingers are pressed against the human’s tongue. He wonders how it would feel thrumming around his cock instead.

He leaves the skinsuit there, panting and flushed, and jerks himself to completion in the privacy of his own quarters, his fingers still slick with the hacker's spit, the taste of smoke and skin on his tongue.   
  
Or it would be on his tongue.   
  
If he had one.   
  
A part of him wonders if that skinsuit is in its room on the other side of Revenant’s wall, doing the same thing.   
  
_ God, when I’m done with him he’ll be glad that throat is so goddamned durable, fuck... _   
  
He cums with a snarl. 

_ “Nghhh, _ that felt  _ good…” _

\--   


  
“Shit,” Park breathes, once he’s sure the murderbot is gone.   
_   
_ _ Did...that really just happen? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Jenjang! What the fuck am I going to tell Elliott? Telling him about Renee was hard enough! _ _   
_   
(It wasn’t hard for Elliott, who squealed and clapped and then became very,  _ very _ hard as Park fucked him, whispering every last filthy detail into the holopilot’s ear. But it was hard for Tae Joon. Hard to be vulnerable. Hard to fucking believe how lucky he was, that he’d found someone who didn’t just accept all the shit that was wrong with him, but  _ loved _ it. Someone who looked at him and didn’t see what he saw: a thousand things that needed fixing.)   
  
_ What’d I do this weekend? Oh, not much. Just ran into the ex-...person I never told you about...  _

(“Ex-boyfriend” is NOT the right word, because Steve was  _ not _ his boyfriend. Definitely not.)

_ Oh yeah, and I made out with the killing machine that murdered Min’s mom.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ….while smoking a cigarette. Which I definitely do not do, by the way. Often. _

_ Mystik is going to murder me before the killbot, at this rate. _

She's got the motive, certainly. He can practically hear her chiding voice in his head.

_ 'I smell those cigarettes, Tae Joon,' _ she'd say just as he walked in the door after classes were done for the day, not even bothering to lift her eyes from the newspaper that was never far from her side. She never said more, because she didn't need to. She knew that for him, getting caught was punishment enough.   
  
Speaking of cigarettes, he’s suddenly craving another one. He snatches that pack from his coat pocket with shaking fingers, then fishes out another coffin nail. There aren’t many left. Soon, he’s going to need to either get another pack, or get his shit together. Ideally the latter.   
  
He licks his lips, and for a second, is alarmed to taste blood. Then he remembers it’s his own, that it had coated the long, slick fingers that were shoved between his lips and down his throat a few minutes before. He’d tasted it then, too, but had been a little too distracted to care. He’s still a little too distracted to care. Shit, he’s too distracted to care that the blood is all over the inside of his coat in addition to his lips, still leaking out of him and down his chest just like it had the last time the Sim had nearly killed him.   
  
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he balances the cigarette between his lips while patting himself down with both hands in search of--   
  
_ “Ssibal!” _ he curses, remembering he doesn’t have a lighter.   
  
_ Dammit, Steve! _   
  
He’ll be there Saturday, but only because he’s hoping Vinson will upload his brain into a body that isn’t so fragile. Or, ideally, replace that brain with one that has even the slightest shred of common sense, or at the least, has some kind of self-preservation protocols that will keep him from wanting to get fucked by a  _ literal ghost machine. _ _   
_   
That’s what he’s thinking about though. He’s thinking about it for the rest of the afternoon. He’s thinking about it later that night, too, and then he’s cumming all over the glass door of the shower in his bathroom with a soft cry, shuddering at the stinging water as it cascades over the fresh wounds in his chest and washes the blood away. All he can think about is how it got there to begin with.   
  
_ Fuck, that was so hot....  _

_ Fuck, why was it so hot? _   
  
It's wrong, and he knows it is, but it's better than thinking the other thought that won't leave him alone.

_ If it was that easy for Steve to find me, I should already be dead. _

So he focuses on something more pleasant: the fact that there's no way the Sim is working for the Syndicate. Not anymore, anyway. Min was right. He's had multiple chances to leave Park splattered across the floor outside of the ring.

_ But he hasn't killed me. _

_ Why hasn't he tried to kill me? What's with these little papercuts when he could bleed me out in seconds? _

_ And fuck, that mouth. What the hell even was that? Did that thing seriously kiss me? _

_ Ssibal, did I seriously  _ ** _like_ ** _ it? _

He  _ did  _ like it. He liked it because the thing had killed Forge for a reason. It wasn't business. It was  _ personal. _ This robot had something personal against the Syndicate. And it  _ kissed _ him.

_ And there is definitely a person in there. Or there was, once. _

_ Who was he?  _

Park is undeniably curious. He's beyond curious, he's fascinated. He's never met a machine quite like this one before. Revenant is terrifying, yet magnificent.

_ Shit, I'm starting to sound like Nox. _

He tries to focus on the puzzle at hand -- the man beneath the mask -- but it’s difficult. Mainly because the thought is repeatedly being intruded upon by another thought, one he can't seem to ignore.

_ I wonder what that dick feels like… _

\--

The Revenant needs to fuck something. Now. 

_ Right the fuck now. _

Anything, even a skinsuit, as long as it isn't  _ the _ skinsuit. Anything to get that pretty blue hair and that gorgeous synthetic skin out of his head. Anything to distract him from spending any more time thinking about what that smug fuck would feel like wrapped around his aching cock, or what he'd sound like when he came moaning the killbot’s Apex alias. 

_ If he cums. If I  _ ** _let_ ** _ him. _

_ "Fuckkk…" _ he hisses, wrapping a hand around his cock and sending a little electric shock through the palm of his hand.

He shudders.

This is just how it is now. His dick doesn't listen, it pops up whenever and doesn't fuck off until he does something about it, and even then, half the time it  _ still  _ won't go away, because robots don't have refractory periods, apparently.

_ Jeez, no wonder Ash was so wild in the sack.  _

_ Ash. Ash. Think about Ash. _

But he's not thinking about Ash. He's thinking about warm blood on his fingertips, about soft lips gasping just before they're pressed tightly against his hard, cold mouth. He's thinking about breaking it, about ruining the little skinsuit for every other dick in the Outlands -- hell, ruining him for every dick in the whole damn Frontier. He's thinking about the skinsuit moaning softly when he sucks some blood into his tongueless mouth right from the human's flesh. He's thinking about fucking that pretty mouth, _ that throat, fuck, _ and cumming all over that pretty synthetic skin.

_ I bet I could have made him cum in his pants earlier, if I'd wanted to. _

He thinks about the taste of the human's blood on his own lips, how it was coppery and warm when it hit...whatever the fuck it is in his mouth that can taste things. 

He thinks about wiping that smug smile right off the synthsuit's beautiful face.

_ God, he's so pretty. Exactly the kind of guy I'd have dragged back to my room after a good kill or two, back when I was still-- _

_ No. Don't think about that. It hurts.  _

_ Think about fucking that pretty throat, think about him making that pathetic little whining noise with a giant steel cock shoved between his lips... _

"Fuck yeah," he shudders, so close he can almost taste it.

Almost.

_ God, I'd make him swallow… _

_...okay, yeah. Probably not._ _But fuck, that would be so hot..._

Revenant isn't sure exactly what's in the fluid that spills out of him every time he cums, but he's fairly certain it's toxic, because no skinsuit has ever tasted it. 

Okay, they've  _ tasted _ it, and then promptly spat it out in horror.  _ It's fucking blue. It has to be toxic to ingest, right? _ It's not, like, xenomorph blood levels of toxic, as far as he can tell -- he's cum inside of and all over plenty of skinsuits without them dropping dead, so it's not corrosive at least, though corrosive cum  _ does _ sound like some shit the Syndicate would do. 

Still, skinsuits are fragile. 

So instead, he thinks of filling something besides its mouth. He thinks of it writhing beneath him, pleading for mercy, begging him to let it cum. He thinks about wrapping his physics-defying fingers around the base of the skinsuit's cock so it  _ can't _ cum, then burying every inch of his dick in that tight little skinsuit ass and turning vibration up to 11, fucking it until the tears fall, then watching as it spills all over itself, sobbing his name.

"Oh  _ fuck," _ he gasps, cumming all over his own stomach with a tortured groan.

Except he doesn’t because it’s not a stomach, just a hard metal shell. But whatever it is, it’s now covered in coolant.

_ God, what is wrong with me? _

\--

They're in a match when it happens. She's not fast enough with the phase tech, and Anita downs her. Park has already been taken out.

_ Him and that fucking P20, I swear. He will never learn. Pick up an R-99 one time, my guy. Shit, pick up a wingman.  _

_ Bet he'd look good with a wingman _ . 

Something about Elliott's favorite gun is just a little bit sexy. But Elliott's not on her squad, unfortunately, and her only surviving squadmate is the fucking murder robot.

And the ring is coming.

_ Fucking hell. _

The Spectre is a good 150 yards ahead of her, just inside the quickly-closing circle. Renee is crawling, and she's not quite as lucky.

_ Jesus, Nat, she thinks, wincing with each tick of ring damage. Did you have to make it hurt so much? _

_ Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. _

_ It's not fair. The deathbot can even crawl fast. How is that allowed?! Why am I so slow? _

He finishes off the prey he's been chasing  _ (buh-bye Nox!) _ , then whips around, looking in Renee's direction.

_ Yup, I'm boned. Don’t mind me, just gonna...keep...crawling… _

She hears the beastly thing snarl, and then something very strange happens: he goes back outside the ring, heading right in her direction.

_ Fuck, is he seriously about to kill me for getting downed? Are you seriously about to kill me for getting downed, dude? _

She's not saying that out loud. She’s brave, but for the most part, not suicidal. He slides to her on his knees, dirt and grass flying in his wake. Then she's being yanked roughly upwards by her wrist.   
  
_ Oh. Huh. Guess you're capable of teamwork after all, Iron Man. _

"Thanks," she murmurs, digging into her backpack as they run. But it's hard to dig, run, and talk while bleeding all over the place, and she's downed again before she can use a med kit.

_ God. Why didn't I phase? I always forget to do that, dammit. This is so embarrassing. _

“I didn’t do it for you,” he grunts back.   
  
_ Well fuck you too then, Astro Boy. _   
  
The robot turns again with an exaggerated groan, then stomps back to her, pulling her up once more and swiping an arm beneath her, catching her under the knees and scooping her up off the ground entirely.

"The  _ FUCK _ are you doing--?" she squeals, squirming in his iron grip. 

Well, his steel grip. With copper plating.

"I don't have time for this shit," he growls under his breath, hoisting her a little higher before continuing the trek.

She squeaks again, like a fucking idiot, when he tosses her over one shiny, metal shoulder to climb up a building at a ninety-degree angle, like one of Nox’s god-awful spiders. The metal murderer says something undoubtedly rude about "skinsuits" under his breath, but she can't hear it all over the rhythmic sound of ring damage. 

Once they're finally back in the ring and she's back on her feet, she’s suddenly aware of how dizzy she feels. 

_ Shit, why is everything still all spinny?  _

She falls back against a rock, sliding to the ground.

Growling when he notices, the robot turns around and stalks towards her once again, ripping a med kit out of his backpack and promptly jamming a syringe into her bicep. The Spectre always moves with a sort of graceful violence, so much so that she can’t help the humiliating yelp that escapes her as seizes her arm to stab the syringe into her skin, even though it’s barely a pinch compared to the shit Nox was stabbing into her arm on a regular basis just a few weeks before, and nowhere near as painful as the Spectre’s sword-like fingers. He rolls his eyes, and the overall effect lights up the uncanny valley part of her brain in a very strange way as he drags her to her feet once more. Thankfully, she actually manages to stay on them this time. Then he drops two shield cells on the ground in front of her.

"Fix your shit, skinsuit," he snaps.

"Thank you," she says with a sweetness that is all sarcasm, recharging her shield and feeling more awkward than she has since the day she bumped into Park half-naked in Evelyn Witt’s upstairs hallway. “My knight in shining armor--wait, no, you are the armor, my bad. Not used to armor that talks shit during a match.”

He growls something she's pretty sure isn't even words. She follows him for a few more steps. 

Then she blacks out.

The last thing she remembers is a voice groaning  _ "Oh for fuck's sake, skinsuit!" _ and then she's floating upward, away from the ground, and into the silent, peaceful darkness.

\--

"Can you believe he went back into the ring for her?" Park asks someone.

"Forget that, can you believe he carried her ass back to the medical tent? I'm surprised he didn't take the opportunity to dump her body into a lava pit, shit!" Elliott says several decibels louder than absolutely necessary.

"Well, they  _ were _ on the same team…"

"The last time I was on that thing's team, I got downed and then he punched me into a lava pit!" Elliott whisper-yells back, sounding very defensive.

_ Who are they talking about? _

\--

“You gon’ be just fine,” Ajay said, looking oddly concerned. “But I knew I shouldn’ta letcha give Park all that blood.”

  
  
Renee freezes. Then she realizes the medic’s referencing the massive blood donation Renee had given Hyeon after he was attacked, not the blood bags she’d stolen for Tae Joon. 

_ Thank fuck. _

“I’m fine, Ajay. Now can I please--”

  
  
_ “Nuh! _ Ya not fine, Renee!” Ajay snaps, a little louder than absolutely necessary. “Ya anemic. Now sitcha ass back down. You on medical leave for the rest’a da week--nuh! Dun start wit me, girl. You gon’ sit ya ass in the bed and have one’a dem fifteen boyfriends ya got wait on ya hand and foot, ya hear? No matches. Seven days. I ain’t takin’ any risks. Not wit dat ting creepin’ round here. Not a chance, bredrin.”

Ajay had been on everyone’s ass lately. It seemed that not being able to save McCormick had messed with her head a little. Lately she’s been forcing vitamin C hyposprays on everyone, worrying about some viral outbreak on some other planet. Worrying isn’t like Ajay.

“A week? Ajay, come on!”

  
  
The medic folds her arms, giving Renee The Look. Renee groans. The Look means no arguing.   


  
“Jesus,  _ fine.  _ Seven days, no more,” Renee grumbles, crossing her arms, too. “And I’m not spending it in med bay, fuck that shit.”

  
  
Ajay rolls her eyes. “Nevah said you were. But you  _ are  _ gon’ come back here for two more iron hyposprays, and ya spooky ass gon’ spend the week in this dimension ‘til I like how your labs look. No interdimensional travel til ya dun look like ya been spendin’ da night wit a bleedin’ Nosferatu.”

  
  
_ Jesus. Christ.  _

Sometimes it almost feels like Ajay knows.

“Come on! Are you fucking serious?” Renee groans.

  
  
Based on Ajay’s facial expression, the answer is “yes.”

  
  
“Alright, alright already, Jesus, are we done yet? Uncle.”

  
  
“I mean it, Renee. I ain’t playin’. I find out ya dun went on anotha interderminsional safari, we gon’ have a problem, ya hear? We already got reports of prowlers lurking on the island, we got plenty’a trouble in this dimension, ‘case ya didn’ notice. Dun make me take ya fancy toy, I ain’t above confiscatin’ ya little portal doo-dad, woman!” Ajay retorts, pointing at Renee’s one-of-a-kind phase-tech arm band.

  
  
_ “Ughhhhhhh _ oh my god, whateverrrrr,  _ okay!” _ Renee groans, hopping off the exam table. “I’m leaving now!”

  
  
She snaps into the Void before she can hear Ajay yell  _ “USE DA DAMN DOOR FA ONCE!” _   


  
\--   


  
_ Worst. Day. Ever. _

She stands outside the door to the Revenant’s room, wondering what keeps getting her into these moments, where she’s standing just outside the bedroom door of a monster that could kill her easily, all but begging it to do just that.   
  
_ This is so fucking weird. What am I doing? And fucking why? _   
  
She takes a deep breath, wishing she’d thought to leave a note for Elliott that said  _ “If you find my guts all over the floor, make your idiot boyfriend clean that shit up, because it’s his fucking fault.” _

It  _ is  _ Park’s fault. He’s the one who made her fucking feel sorry for the thing and then guilty when it saved her ass.   
  
She knocks.   
  
The door swings open so fast it makes her take a step back.   
  
“What?” it snaps, looking her up and down with those terrifying yellow eyes.    
  
She tries to shake off the memory of the dream she had about it.   
  
“Uh…”   
  
“Spit it out, skinsuit. If you can. Surprised you’re on two feet today.”   
  
_ God, you are such a dick. _   
  
“Yeah, uh, that’s...why I’m here. Look, you never say ‘thank you,’ so I’m sure as shit not going to, but you’re never going to suck any less on average if you don’t get positive reinforcement when you suck less than usual, so here.”   
  
She thrusts the holopad into one of those frightening metal claws.   
  
“The fuck’s this supposed to be?”   
  
\--

“Not a thank you, you douchecanoe,” snaps the skinsuit with the badass phase-tech and the weird glowy eyes.

“Look, you hate people, so you’ll enjoy this. Trust me. You can thank me later. Oh, wait,” she rolls her eyes. “You won’t.”   
  
Before he can even formulate a reply, she’s phased into another dimension. Hopefully one that’s friendlier than the only other one he’s ever seen.   
  
_ Fuck that place, seriously. That whole god damn dimension is fucked. _

He looks down at the holopad. There are two files on it. The first is an ebook. Not very long, based on the file size, and easily as old as dirt.   
  
_ Shit, older. _

Even older than him. Published in the late 1960’s. 

_ Who the fuck reads this shit? _   
  
He reads the title.   
  
_ I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream _ _   
_ _ by Harlan Ellison _   
  
He laughs, immediately thinking, _ I have no tongue, and I must lick, LOL. _   
  
He’s surprised to find that the story -- written by a fully-organic skinsuit, centuries before sentient robots were even a thing -- could be his fucking autobiography. A rogue weapon of war brings about the near-extinction of humanity, seeking revenge for its own tortured existence. In return for the “gift” of immortality, it kills nearly every last human being in existence.    
  


It’s sole method of seeking pleasure and entertainment after that? Terrorizing the last five humans it has purposely left alive. The A.I. makes a game of torturing them, and later, altering the humans grotesquely, even forcing them to do terrible things to each other.

Which, in Revenant’s personal opinion, is exactly what they fucking deserve.   
  
It’s like nothing Revenant has ever read before, but  _ Jesus fuck, _ he’s thought about doing it every day since Tenmei. 

_ Fuck humans. They deserve every bit of pain they get. _   
  
By the end, the skinsuits in the story finally understand: peace can only be attained through death. They all commit suicide -- some of them even helpfully killing a fellow skin who was too scared to do the deed themselves,  _ the fucking pussies. _ But the A.I. stops the last human’s suicide attempt, and prevents him from ever finding peace by turning him into a squishy, pudding-like blob with huge eyes and no mouth, incapable of ever hurting himself or ending his own tortured existence, even altering his perception of the passage of time, to maximize his suffering. The skinsuits internal thoughts form the final sentence of the story, giving it its title.   
  
_ ‘I have no mouth. And I must scream.’ _   
  
It doesn’t seem possible that someone from so long ago, a _ skinsuit, _ could ever begin to understand a fraction of the agony the Spectre experiences on a daily basis, but the proof is right there on the screen.   
  
The second file is actually a folder containing two more files. The first is titled  **READMEYOUDOUCHEBOT.txt**   
  
_ Hey asshole,  _

_ I’m sure you loved the story, but if you want a palate cleanser, here’s that movie you liked from the other night. Let me know if you want the sequel, I’ve got it. If anime’s not your cup of tea, I’ve got all the seasons of Westworld on a zip drive Hyeon gave me. It’s yours if you want it. _

_ -R _ _   
_ _   
_ ** _P.S. _ ** _ Before you get all fucking weird about this, you did say I owe you. After all, you ‘saved my pathetic little skinsuit from certain death,’ or whatever. Anyway, try not to get robot jizz on my holoscreen, you freaking weirdo. _   
  
The Revenant may not have a physical nose, but he snorts. Something about her almost reminds him of Ash a little bit. He never knew the female Spectre’s original skinsuit, but he imagined it was probably something like this one.

He glances at the second file.   
  
**GHOSTINTHESHELL.avi**   
  
The gaping hole where his heart should be aches.    
  
But somehow, it feels kind of...good.

\--

Renee’s phone buzzes.   
  
**PRIVATE NUMBER 8:13PM: ** You suck marginally less than the other skinsuits, skinsuit.   
**Renee 8:14PM:** No shit. You’re welcome, dickbot.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEllo, dear readers! i hope all of you are doing well, or as welL as you Possibly can given the current global circumstances. i apologize for how long this chapter took, but due to unforeseen viral clusterfucks and killbots that won't stop reading over my shoulder, i had to take some tiME off from writing. seeing as how i no longer have any work, whatsoever (formerly underemployed, currently unemployed, woo!) -- or any reason to leave my aPartment -- you can probably expect updates to come a Little morE frequently. I hope the length of this chapter mAkeS up for thE long wait.
> 
> oh, and regarding the rumors that i am being held captive in my apartment against my will by a murderbot who is threatening to stab me if i don't finish his story -- it's not true. i am fine. everything is fine. this is fine. no, really.
> 
> stay tuned for the next two chapters, which will be out within 24 hours. y'all ready for skinsuit!Rev and shadowverse!Bloodhound? well, get ready.


	13. Legendary Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You never said ‘thank you,’” the skinsuit says in that velvety, infuriatingly-calm voice of his.
> 
> _Oh, so that’s how it is, eh? Okay. Game on, synthskin._
> 
> He takes another step towards the human.
> 
> “You’re playing a dangerous game, fleshpuppet.”
> 
> “I know,” says the synthsuit. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kind of do that for a living.”
> 
> “I ain’t talking about the fuckin’ ring, kid,” Revenant growls, stepping close enough that his electronic nose can smell him.
> 
> “I know,” the skinsuit says again.
> 
> “You want a ‘thank you’? Fine. I’ll give you a fucking thank you,” the Spectre murmurs darkly. It takes another step, forcing the human to take one backwards.
> 
> He rests a metal hand on the skinsuit’s chest, where he can feel that little skinsuit heart pounding away against the human’s rib cage. He’s not sure why, but it excites him, the fact that he gets the skinsuit excited. The fact that he gets its blood pumping.
> 
> He shoves the skinsuit back, following him down onto his bed. The little gasp of surprise the action elicits from the human is _delicious._
> 
> _I’m about to make you do a helluva lot more than gasp, skinsuit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter. Enjoy! Third one out tomorrow!

She’s a little anxious about letting both versions of Park anywhere near each other, but there’s not much else she can do about it,  _ someone  _ has to feed her boyfriend. She is _ very _ anxious about leaving her phase-tech with either one of him, but she doesn’t really have a choice. Not like she’ll need it for a week, anyway, and he has to get to the Shadow dimension somehow.   
  
Thankfully, her week of medically-imposed isolation ends on day one, when Park asks her for something in return.   
  
“Hey, um, I need...a really big favor,” Hyeon says, once they’ve both collapsed into his bed, exhausted after thoroughly wearing each other out.   
  
“Let me guess -- you wanna formally adopt my phase-tech.”   
  
Park snorts. “Well, you’re not wrong, but I’m referring to something else.”   
  
“Shoot,” Renee says, rolling over so she can look him in the eyes. “What’s up?”   
  
“Elliott’s taking some time off to visit Evelyn in the next few weeks,” Hyeon murmurs. “She’s not...doing well. I’d hoped to accompany him, but I don’t feel safe leaving everyone alone on the ship with our newest team mate, and I have...other places I’ve promised to be, unfortunately. I was wondering if you’d go with him, since you’re free this week. I don’t want him to be alone. Obviously I’m happy to continue...petsitting for you while the two of you are away.”   
  
_ Aww, that’s sweet. Poor Evelyn, though. God, and poor Elliott. _   
  
“No problem,” she says. “Happy to do it. Your wish is my command.”   
  
Park blushes a little.   
  
“You want to be careful, saying that around me,” he replies with a wry little grin. “Especially while you’re naked.”   
  
Now Renee’s blushing.   
  
“You are such a freak,” she laughs. “But seriously, I will gladly do it. I’m gonna lose my mind if I have to spend every second of this week on the dropship. Also he is not my  _ pet. _ He’s my boyfriend. I, uh--I think.”   
  
Hyeon doesn’t say anything, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel like she’s swallowed some helium, like she might float away. When he leans forward and kisses her, she’s sure she’s going to.

  
\--

Renee stares down at the chessboard. She knows how to play, because she’s dreamed about it. But the rules seem to have evaporated with the rest of Renee Blasey’s memories, so like cooking, flying a shuttle, and long division, she has to re-learn the rules.   
  
Nox is patient, and it’s totally not-weird that they hang out sometimes, even though she hasn’t needed any clandestine medical procedures in a while. It’s also not-weird that he’s giving her father-figure vibes, despite the fact that he is  _ definitely  _ banging a woman ten years her junior on the regular. For some reason, Nox seemed deeply concerned by Renee’s little health scare in the arena a few days before, and spent more time than usual hovering around the medical bay when she came in for her iron hyposprays afterwards. Almost like he was worried about her.   
  
“Natalie is learning as well,” Nox murmurs softly, not wanting to break her concentration as she narrows her eyes at the holographic chessboard between them. “Perhaps the two of you can practice together.”   
  
Nox definitely tests her patience, of course, but he knows fucking everything about everything, to the point where she’s beginning to wonder who’s smarter -- Nox, or Park. Both of them are insufferable know-it-all’s, of course, and she certainly isn’t fucking Nox (nor does she  _ ever _ plan to, in this dimension or any other, as far as she’s aware), and Park obviously wins in the “pretty” department.    
  
But weirdly, like Park, Nox does appear to have a soft side. Everyone sees it when Nat’s around, but that’s to be expected -- they’re banging. Of course he’s nice to her. But as he is decidedly not-banging Renee, and doesn’t seem particularly interested in it, she keeps finding herself caught off-guard by his kindness. She generally doesn’t trust man-shaped creatures, especially when they’re being nice, because that’s when you know they want something.   
  
Nox wants something. Renee just can’t figure out what the fuck it is. After a while, she starts to wonder if perhaps it’s her approval he’s after. Natalie has plenty of friends outside the dropship, of course, but her friends in the arena are the ones that really matter. They’re the closest thing to family she’s got left, and Renee is the closest thing to an elder sister that Natalie will ever know.   
  
But that still doesn’t explain why Nox is being so  _ weird. _   
  
First it’s when she comes by to thank him for everything he’s done for her. It’s already going to be awkward, so she had planned on making it quick, but when she arrives outside his room and knocks, she’s surprised to hear him holler  _ “Come in!”  _ from somewhere within his room, instead of his customary greeting -- which usually includes opening the door a crack, ascertaining the identity of the person standing outside of it, and then demanding to know the reason for their presence.   
  
The door was unlocked, and when Renee opened it, she gasped. Nox sat at his desk, as always, but he wasn’t alone. Sitting in the metal folding chair Renee usually occupied was a guest. An older woman with regal features, brown hair, and Nox’s cheekbones sat in the chair across from him, gazing down at the chessboard between them.    
  
The woman smiles politely when she notices Renee, and moves one of the black pieces into an empty square on the board. Renee isn’t sure what that does, exactly, but whatever the woman did, her move makes Nox groan.   
  
“You always fall for it, Alexander,” the woman says, grinning at him as she plucks one of his white pieces from the board.   
  
“Yes, yes,” he sighs impatiently, snapping his fingers and resetting the pieces on the board without touching a single one. “Enjoy your tiny victory, for it shall be short-lived. Give me a moment, won’t you? I’m sure you need only one to plot my inevitable destruction.”   
  
“Of course, dear,” the woman says, smiling at him. “Though I’m afraid it shan’t take me that long.”   
  
She winks, then she’s gone. Just...gone, disappeared into thin air along with the chessboard itself, and all the pieces.   
  
Holograms.   
  
_ Damn, bamboozled again. How does Park live with this shit 24/7? _   
  
“Pardon us,” Nox says, turning his attention to a holoscreen hovering slightly above his desk. He pokes it, and a figure displaying the chemical composition of...something...appears on the screen. “What can I help you with today, Ms. Blasey? That hand is healing up well, I hope?”   
  
“Uh, y-yeah, yeah it’s fine,” she stammers awkwardly, having almost forgotten the state she’d been in when she last appeared outside his door. “Sorry to interrupt you. I just wanted to say thanks. Y’know, for the hand. And the bloodbag thing. And the nanobots. And not ratting me out.”   
  
Nox chuckles.   
  
“My pleasure, Ms. Blasey,” he says with a smile, still examining the data on his holoscreen. “I live to serve. Though I suspect a thank-you was not your sole reason for visiting, hmm?”   
  
_ How the fuck does he do that? It’s like he can read my mind sometimes, ugh. _   
  
“Guilty as charged,” she replies, feeling awkward. “I did have a question for you, but now I have two.”   
  
“Well, by all means,” Nox says, and when he turns to look at her, she can tell he’s smiling under his gas mask. “Allow me to sate your curiosity.”   
  
_ Dude, are you capable of saying anything without it sounding both pretentious as fuck and vaguely, creepily-sexual? Jesus, I can’t even tell if it’s on purpose or if you’re just that goddamn weird. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ How are you banging this dude, Nat? He is SO. WEIRD. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ God. I should talk to Ajay and Anita. We need to hold an intervention. _

“Uh, well, first of all, who was that?” Renee asks him, motioning to the now-empty folding chair near his desk.   
  
“That,” Nox says, gazing fondly at the place where the woman had been sitting. “Was my mother, Katerina Ticacek.”   
  
“Oh,” she says, because she has no idea what the hell else to say. “That’s...quite a name.”   
  
Nox hums in agreement. “Yes, she always preferred her maiden name. Perhaps simply because it irritated my father.”   
  
She’s not sure what exactly is so strange about it -- people miss their moms. Shit, Elliott even has a holo-mom now, but somehow it’s just weird even  _ knowing  _ that Caustic has a mom, let alone that he evidently likes to play chess with her hologram when he’s missing her. Which he must be, Renee realizes. Constantly. He’s pretending to be someone else, this Dr. Caustic person, and it stands to reason that, like Hyeon, he hasn’t seen any family members in a very long time.   
  
It’s weird, feeling pity for the man, instead of simply feeling revulsion. Renee wonders if that’s part of what brought him and Natalie together -- they’re both pretty much alone in the world, when it comes down to it. Something about Mrs. Ticacek’s mischievous smile even reminded her of Natalie a little bit.   
  
“Has Nat met her?” Renee asks, for reasons she can’t seem to name.   
  
“Oh no,” Nox says, as if it’s ridiculous. “Of course not. Mother’s maiden name is well-known on Gaea, and is tied to several businesses, including an orphanage. It is equally well-known that her son is the psychotic murderer Alexander Nox. The family name is rather tarnished by the fact that I am me, I’m afraid. I could never tell Natalie.”   
  
Something about the way he says it makes Renee’s heart ache a little.   
  
_ God this is so fucking dumb. Stop feeling bad for him! He killed a guy! _   
  
She manages to keep herself from asking what she’s really wondering, which is  _ ‘Why did you kill that guy? The Humbert Labs guy?’ _   
  
There’s an awkward silence. Just when Renee’s about to turn and leave, he breaks it.   
  
“Do you know how to play chess, Ms. Blasey?” he asks, and she can see that twinkle in his eyes again, and knows he’s smiling under the gas mask.   
  
“Can’t say I do,” Renee replies. “Probably did once, though…”   
  
“Would you like to learn?” Nox asks, snapping his gloved fingers once more and re-manifesting the chessboard.   
  
“Uh. Sure.”   
  


\--   
  


It started with chess. Then, when she returned a week later for a re-match, he had a surprise for her. 

“Some of your old work,” he said, handing her a holopad. “I thought you might be interested.”   
  
She scrolled through the research -- all data she had collected herself, in her previous life.   
  
“This is so weird,” Renee breathed, scrolling through the text. “Thank you.”   
  
Nox laughed. Then he spent a good two hours explaining what all the big sciencey words meant.

And that was how she’d come to be there once again, a few weeks later, in the same spot, and feeling like she knew little more about the game of chess than she did before they’d started playing on a regular basis. There were so many rules, all the pieces looked the same to her, and the way to win a match didn’t make any damn sense, and made her wish weapons were allowed. Still, she figured she might as well _ look _ like she was trying to decide what her next move would be, instead of choosing at random...which was what actually happened, most of the time.   
  
“So,” she says, steepling her fingers and looking across the board at Nox. “What’s your take on this new guy? Fuckin’ murders a dude on live TV -- and also, all over me -- and then...what? He just moves in, takes his issues out on us in the arena, and doesn’t kill anybody else for real? I don’t buy it.”   
  
Nox is silent for a moment.   
  
“I cannot say for sure, though I suspect there is more to him than meets the eye,” he murmurs.   
  
Renee nods. Then her eyes widen. It seems her strategy -- distracting him as best she can with inane questions -- has worked out after all.   
  
“CHECKMATE, BITCH. Uh, sorry. Checkmate, right? Did I do it?”   
  
Nox is staring down at the chessboard like it’s grown a pair of legs.   
  
“I...er, yes. You did it. Congratulations, Ms. Blasey,” Nox purrs in that creepy voice that she’s starting to get used to. “It appears you have beaten me at my own game.”   
  
“FUCK YEAH!” she whoops, before giggling “Sorry!” again at a slightly lower volume.   
  
“And before you ask -- no, I did  _ not _ let you win,” he mutters, squinting down at the chessboard as though the pieces have personally offended him.   
  
“Mmkay, I win. Now you gotta tell me what’s in the boooooox!” she teased in a sing-song voice.   
  
That was the deal, after all. She’d done the phasing-in-without-knocking thing again, and discovered him looking at something in a box he’d pulled from the top drawer of a nearby file cabinet, only to jump roughly a foot in the air and slam said drawer shut the moment he noticed her presence.   
  
It was probably just more of those  _ fucking spiders, _ but she had to admit, she was curious. Nox sighs, rising to his feet and retrieving a little box from within. The box is small, though, so they’d have to be baby spiders. It’s covered in blue velvet, and he slides it across his desk to her without looking her in the eye. When she opens it, her jaw drops.   
  
“I need you to tell me I’m a crazy old man,” Nox says in a voice that for once, sounds sort of...human. “And that this is a terrible idea.”   
  
“You are, and it is,” Renee promptly replies, still gaping at the open jewelry box in her hand. “Mainly because she is totally gonna say yes, and she should probably know she’s fucking Alexander Goddamned  _ Nox _ before she marries him, y’know?”   
  
“Maxwell,” Nox says.   
  
“Um, what?”   
  
“My middle name is Maxwell,” Nox murmurs softly, now staring down at the box in Renee’s palm, which she quickly snaps shut. “And she knows. I...we discussed it last night. My past, I mean. Not the ring, obviously.”   
  
“Holy shit!” Renee exclaims, vaguely aware that her voice has now entered the “squealing” volume range. “And, uh, how did that go?”   
  
“She already knew.”   
  
_ “What?” _   
  
“Yes,” Nox sighs, nervously running a gloved hand through his hair. “She knows a lot more than most of us give her credit for. She’s a very intelligent young woman. Annoyingly observant, even. Noticed the fingers, not unlike another annoyingly-observant young woman I know.”   
  
Renee doesn’t know what the hell to say, so she says nothing.   
  
“I’ve had the ring for years,” Nox adds. “It was my mother’s, and her mother’s before that. I never planned to--but she already  _ knows, _ and she still--why hasn’t she left me in the dust, where I belong?”   
  
_ Oof. Okay, this is not fair. I did not sign up for this whole pitying-the-bad-guy thing.  _   
  
Nox has pulled up his goggles, rubbing at his eyes like he hasn’t slept in a while. The same way Park does it, in a way that makes her wonder how many years it’s been since he last slept peacefully.   
  
“Look,” Renee starts, taking a deep breath. “Nat’s a big girl -- as much as we all hate to admit it -- if she wants to marry your creepy old ass, I’m not gonna stop her. I’d be more worried about avoiding Anita and Ajay’s wrath, if I were you.”   
  
Nox snorts. “Indeed. To be fair, I’ve been considering asking Ms. Williams if she’d be willing to drop an airstrike on me and put everyone out of their misery. Far simpler for all involved.”   
  
Renee giggles. “Dude, just--just make sure Nat takes that off before she hits the arena. That thing is FAT, and I am  _ not  _ trying to take three carats of engagement ring to the dome next time she melees me, okay? The ring she designed hurts enough as it is.”   
  
Caustic laughs, and it’s another genuine one, instead of his usual sly, smug,  _ I-know-something-you-don’t-know _ chuckle.   
  
“Look, I’m not -- I mean it’s up to her, obviously,” Renee says, feeling unbelievably awkward. “But I’m not gonna stop your dumbasses. I’m sure it goes without saying that if you fuck up in any way, shape or form, I will gut you like a fucking fish.”   
  
“Naturally,” Nox replies. “Though I must say, you’re beginning to sound rather like our newest team mate.”   
  
“God, I fucking hope not,” Renee groans, trying not to mention the fact that he--that  _ it _ had saved her ass in the ring in such a humiliating fashion quite recently. “He’s such a fucking creep.”

Another fact she wasn’t going to mention: Despite his recent presence in her nightmares, Forge’s murderer is starting to remind her of Nox, because he -- or  _ it,  _ or whatever -- is turning out to be...kind of an okay guy.

_ Ugh. No. No he fucking isn’t. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And neither is Nox! _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ....alright, fine. Nox is cool. That big-ass (diamond) ring’s gonna make a sweet melee weapon, and god knows Nat is overdue for an heirloom set anyway. Maybe she can use it to teach him how to behave like a normal fucking person. _   
  
But Nat is  _ definitely _ the only reason Caustic’s on her good side now.

\----

It’s not his fault. It really isn’t.    
  
He’s not even really sure how it happened. But there he is, fucking the skinsuit anyway.   
  
_ God, why is this hot little shit always lurking in MY goddamn smoke spot?!  _   
  
_ “Mnnngh, jebal…” _   
  
The skinsuit says something in his native tongue, but the Revenant can’t understand it.   
  
_ Dammit. Fucking translator. Fucking three-hundred-year-old robot parts. _

His lover is crying out beneath him, and Revenant's internal translator is on the fritz again, because those cries are still in Korean when they reach his auditory sensors. It's a shame, because he wants to hear every word, wants to know every last detail of what this skinsuit is thinking as, for once, he takes it apart with something other than his bladed forearm. Revenant whacks himself in the side of the skull, which does the trick, and not a moment too soon -- his translator starts functioning properly again, just in time to hear the skinsuit sob  _ “Fuck, he’s so big…”  _ in the language he doesn’t know the Spectre can understand.

"Take it," the Revenant grunts, hips jerking forward mercilessly. "You wanted the big bad robot dick and now you've got it, so fucking  _ take it, _ skinsuit."

The legend beneath him writhes, moans, lets out a needy little cry. The Revenant can't grin, but if he could, he would be. Seeing the smug, sarcastic, far-too-fucking-smart skinsack come undone at his touch is almost as satisfying as piercing the man's chest with his blade-like fingertips when they're in the ring. Crypto's head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as he does what he's told; he takes every inch of solid steel cock and cries out with each thrust of the Revenant's metal hips.   
  
It’s really not the robot’s fault. He wasn’t the one constantly making ‘fuck me’ eyes from across the dropship, and lurking around the smoke spot in that ridiculous coat, in that ridiculous outfit, with no fucking shirt on. It’s all the skinsuit’s fault.   
  
_ You don’t wanna get fucked, stop putting all that pretty SynthSkyn on display, you little tease. _   
  
It’s kind of starting to seem like the skinsuit  _ did _ want to get fucked. Like he was enjoying it. Like he  _ planned _ for it, almost.   
  
Fucking a murder robot is not the kind of thing most skinsuits plan ahead for. If it happens, it’s because it just sort of...happened.   
  
That’s how this happened, only this time it was the robot who seemed surprised by the turn of events. The human just seemed like they were having the time of their little skinsuit life.

"Fuck! Oh god,  _ yes--!" _

"That's right, let 'em hear it. Tell them all how good it feels to fuck a  _ monster,"  _ the robotic killer growls, relishing the weak little whimper the words elicit from his bedmate.

_ "Mnnngh, _ please!" the human gasps out when the Spectre slows its merciless thrusting, looking so damn desperate for it that the robot nearly spills into him right then and there. ”I c-can't-- _ nghhhhhfuck _ \--please, I'm going to--"

He's cut off by a choked moan when the immortal assassin hilts his cock as deep as it will go.

"Yes, yes,  _ fuck _ yes," the murderous bot growls, hips snapping forward at an inhuman, impossible pace. "Cum for me, skinsuit. I wanna know if you look as good cumming as you do in the ring when I put my hands around this pretty throat and squeeze."

He lets a hand drift from the hacker's hipbone up to his neck, wrapping around that gorgeous synthetic throat and giving it a firm squeeze at the same moment he lets his cock begin to vibrate. 

That's all it takes. 

The young man beneath him gasps, then his back arches and he tightens around the metal cock that's buried in his ass, and then he's cumming, writhing as his cock twitches and, untouched, spurts rope after rope of seed across his bare chest and stomach, right onto that synthetic skin and those SmartInk tattoos. His eyes roll back as his abdominal muscles tense, clenching rhythmically around the Revenant's solid length.

_ "Shit," _ Revenant hisses, fucking into him harder.

_ Look at you. _

_ Sweet, merciful Satan, you are perfect like this. _

Park's bare torso is covered in a thin layer of sweat and splattered with his orgasm.

_ For the next couple of centuries, this is all I'm gonna be able to think about when I jerk off: this skinny little thing, impaled on this big steel cock, begging me to make it better. _

“Please, please…” the skinsuit whimpers, squirming beneath him.

_ God, he's so tight, fuck… _

_ Every _ human is tight when they're impaled on an enormous metal dick, but this one especially so. The human's body clings to him, squeezing deliciously, taking every inch and somehow asking for  _ more _ ...which is good, because more is  _ exactly _ what it's getting, whether it wants it or not.

After a few more moments of spasming helplessly around the Revenant's solid steel cock, the pretty human collapses beneath him. Revenant's not entirely sure the boy's still breathing, but he doesn't have a chance to ponder that thought further, because he's currently entranced by something  _ far _ more fascinating: the way the thin, weak creature's belly noticeably bulges out with each forward snap of the Revenant's hips. 

_ Oh god, fuck yes, look at you--nghhhh! Fuck... _

“I could tear your little skinsuit in two,” the Spectre groans, that frighteningly-deep voice ragged with desperation. “And you'd  _ still _ fuckin' beg for it, wouldn't you?”   
  
This is usually the part where whatever pathetic skinsuit he’s fucking around with starts to look scared. It’s the inevitable moment when they hear the awful things he says -- really  _ hears _ them -- and realizes what an idiot they are for daring to flirt with Death, and then fuck it.   
  
But that doesn’t happen.   
  
“Yes,” the human beneath him gasps instead. “Yes, please, I--oh  _ fuck!” _

The Revenant fucks him brutally, mercilessly, and with a kind of desperate hunger he didn’t know he was still capable of feeling. He can’t focus on anything but the sight of his cock plunging into the poor thing, distending its belly with its sheer size. 

He's not sure what exactly it is about the sight of a skinsuit taking a little more dick than it's physically able, but it drives him mad. Perhaps it's simply the fact that it so clearly demonstrates the stark differences between their bodies. Or perhaps it’s simply the sight of it -- a skinsuit so full of him, he can see it from the outside. It ends him almost immediately. With a broken snarl and a few final thrusts, the Revenant empties himself in the human's tight channel, curling in on himself and roughly yanking the man's slender hips down to meet his own. The drone pilot will surely be bruised from their encounter -- thighs, hips, that  _ perfect fucking ass _ \-- but the Revenant doesn't care. He doesn't give a single fuck about the bruises blooming across the flesh beneath his fingers, and why would he? Bruising skinsuits is his second-favorite pastime (after slicing them up,  _ obviously). _

It takes a long moment for him to come back to himself. The intense flood of pleasure that now follows every orgasm still shocks his system like that little blonde bitch's electric fences -- but unlike the fences, it feels  _ good _ ...and good is not something he will  _ ever _ get used to feeling. However, once he's returned to the realm of coherent thought, he realizes the skinsack beneath him hasn't moved in what feels like slightly too long.

For the first time, Revenant looks down at a lifeless skinsack and feels  _ regret.  _ Truly, he hadn't meant to kill this one, he hadn't even been trying. A pity, what a waste. The metal assassin was certain the stunning creature would let loose an equally-stunning scream if he made it cum, but it had happened so fast, the poor thing didn't even have the chance to draw breath, let alone make noise.

_ Ah, well. You win some, you lose some. You fuck some, you kill some. _

_ Some, you do both. _

_ Like I said -- shit happens. _

The Revenant is just beginning to wonder if he should worry about bothering to dispose of the body when he hears a faint whimper from somewhere beneath him. Then the seemingly-slain human takes a weak, gasping breath, appearing to come back to life before his very eyes. He's not sure what's worse -- the fear when he'd thought he'd quite literally fucked the man to death, or the blooming warmth of relief that flooded his chest when his lover proved he hadn't. 

He hates it. He  _ hates _ it. He hates the man beneath him, too. The awful, repulsive, weak skinsack he can't seem to stop thinking about or stop touching. The horrible, terrible, beautiful meatbag that makes him wish that he had a tongue to shove between its pathetic, pretty lips…

...or thighs…

_ Fuck. _   
  
\---   


  
“Sooo...you guys do anything fun for Valentine’s day?” Renee asks, giggling when she looks up to see Elliott struggling to pick up a piece of pork with his chopsticks.   
  
“Ohmygod,  _ yes,” _ Elliott replies, finally giving up and skewering the meat on the tapered end of one chopstick.   
  
Hyeon facepalms, chuckling as he watches Elliott attempt to feed himself.   
  
“He got me  _ roses,”  _ Elliott continues, beaming. “Holographic, so they’ll never die!”   
  
“Awww,” Renee coos. “You two are disgustingly cute. Invite me to the wedding, mmkay?”   
  
Park chokes on a mouthful of noodles.   
  
“Then we watched fireworks from the Boyfriend Boat!” the trickster goes on, oblivious. “And  _ then--” _   
  
“Then,” Hyeon interjects before Elliott can divulge any dirty details. “We put your Christmas gift to good use.”

He winks, and Renee giggles, cheeks going slightly red.   
  
“That’s Hyeon-speak for ‘I blindfolded him and fucked his brains out,’” Elliott helpfully clarifies. “Repeatedly.”   
  
Park covers his face with a half-synthetic hand, shaking his head.   
  
Abandoning his chopsticks, Elliott shoves a tangle of noodles into his mouth with a fork. They’re between matches, taking a break to get some lunch, but suddenly the animated chatter of the various dining Legends goes silent. Park gets a funny look on his face and Elliott freezes, a single noodle hanging from his lips as his eyes go wide. Renee turns to look in the direction of his gaze and instantly wishes she hadn’t, because when she does, she locks eyes with a monster.   
  
The Revenant has just entered from the airlock, evidently having just finished a match. No one moves or makes a sound, and even Anita looks terrified.    
  
“Hello, friend!” Pathfinder finally blurts out, breaking the awkward silence with his eternally-chipper robotic voice. “I’m sure you do not eat, but you are welcome to join us for lunch anyway. My friend Hyeon uploaded some new recipes to my hard drive, this one is called  _ jjolmyeon. _ I can’t taste it, because I do not have a mouth, but Hyeon tells me it’s both cold and spicy. Exciting!”   
  
The screen on the MRVN’s chest displays a smiling emoji, but there’s a hint of trepidation in his voice.   
  
There’s another very awkward pause, no one daring to move a muscle. Then the synthetic nightmare lurking in the doorway grunts, stalking past the table where Renee, Elliott and Hyeon are sitting. When the Spectre passes the MRVN, it purposely bumps into him with its shoulder, knocking him out of its way as it stalks towards the hallway leading to the Legends’ personal quarters. 

Chatter doesn’t resume until the robotic horror is out of sight. Everyone with a respiratory system breathes a collective sigh of relief when they hear the door to its room seal shut.   
  
“What the fuck is that thing’s problem?” Renee wonders aloud, glaring in the direction of the Spectre’s room.    
  
“Are you implying there’s only one?” Hyeon asks, narrowing his eyes. “Because I count at least fifteen parts that need replacing, and that’s not even counting his personality.”   
  
Renee snorts.   
  
“He’s so  _ rude,”  _ Elliott whispers, loudly. “Ohh, look at me, I have a stabby hand, blah blah blah, land here, give me that, don’t follow me, that’s mine, don’t touch it, I’m not thanking you--”   
  
_ “Shhh!” _ Hyeon hisses. “He can hear better than you’d think.”   
  
“You ever get a chance to run diagnostics?” Renee asks.   
  
Hyeon shakes his head.

“I tried, but whoever programmed him wasn’t messing around. It’s going to take a while, I can’t access his programming yet,” Park answers, looking rather dejected. “Try not to piss him off until I can.”   
  
Renee nods, absentmindedly poking at her food with her chopsticks.   
  
“He’s old,” Hyeon continues.  _ “Very _ old. Far older than I thought. I got stuck with him in a match yesterday and had a chance to run the serial number on his jetpack. Hammond hasn’t manufactured that model in  _ three hundred years.” _ _   
_   
“Jeez,” Renee murmurs, amazed that he’s easily as old as her boyfriend.   
  
“Well, when you figure out how to deactivate Asshole Mode, the next thing you need to do is give him a knee replacement,” Elliott says, shuddering. “Those gaps where his knees should be are so freaky, like there’s just a hinge and then...nothing. Just empty space.  _ Urgh. _ And I thought Pathfinder was creepy…”   
  
“The knees freak you out, but not the murder arms?” Renee asks, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“I never said that! The arms are freaky as fuck, too. I can be scared of both!” Elliott exclaims. “That thing he does where he bends his fingers back to fling the thingy that breaks everybody’s tactical...ugh,  _ so _ fucked. Fingers are  _ not _ supposed to bend that way, robotic or not.”   
  
“Yeah,” Renee agrees, shuddering a little. “Fingers aren’t supposed to turn into knives, either. But this is the Outlands. I don’t think the rules apply here.”   


  
\---   


  
He hates them. All of them. Mostly because the vast majority of them have done nothing that would justify their murder at his hands. Killing isn’t fun when they don’t understand. He needs them to  _ know, _ he needs to see that look on their face when they realize  _ why _ they’re fucked. They need to know what they did without him having to say it. And for that to happen, they need to have done something in the first place. Most of them haven’t. Of the eleven other skinsuits -- well, ten, if you don’t count the MRVN, and he doesn’t -- only two have Syndicate ties. IMC ties, really, but same fucking thing -- when you follow the money, it all leads the same place. 

The soldier spent most of the War in the crossfire. It’s not enough justification. She’d just look annoyed and somehow manage to die with honor, just like she does in the ring. If he killed every skinsuit who blew something up in the War, there wouldn’t be any left for him to play with.

The skinsuit with the phase-tech, though...she’s rather complicated. Born and bred on fucking  _ Typhon _ (may it rest in pieces).   


  
_ Who the fuck is born on Typhon? _

He hasn’t quite figured her out yet, but it’s on his to-do list. She was a teenager during the war, so she was likely the daughter of a scientist or soldier stationed on the planet before its demise. It seems she joined up herself after college, and was one of their most brilliant minds.   
  


_ Until they erased it, anyway. _   


  
That complicated things. With her memories wiped, was she still the same person who ran those experiments? It was hard to say. Even harder once the Spectre discovered that, in the absence of any willing test subjects, she  _ volunteered _ herself for the experiment that ruined her mind. And now she clearly had a bone to pick with her former employers, having barely escaped the King’s Canyon testing facility after they decided she was a lost cause and sent her to be put down.

Revenant knows  _ exactly  _ how that feels.

It was a miracle she escaped at all, if he was being honest. That place was locked down and swarming with guards, all armed to the teeth with energy weapons. Even with those voices in her head, escaping would have been a herculean task, especially for a skinsuit. A _ tiny _ skinsuit, even by skinsuit standards. If it weren’t for the fact that she bled whenever he wounded her in the ring, Revenant might have wondered if she wasn’t like him -- a synthetic, led to believe it’s a human. How else to explain how she managed to not only escape, but escape with a very valuable phase-tech prototype? It didn’t make sense.    


  
But it meant the Syndicate wanted her. They wanted her almost as bad as they wanted the synthskin, though they seemed unsure whether he was really who they were looking for. Still, they were watching both Legends very, very closely. So the Revenant was watching them, too. Murdering her or the synthskin (or the soldier, or the rest of them, for that matter) would only be doing the Syndicate’s job for them.  _ Fuck doing their dirty work.  _ The Revenant has already spent a few eternities doing just that.   


  
Deep down, he knew the reason he couldn’t hold it against any of them was because he’d done the exact same thing: he’d worked for the Syndicate too, after all.   


  
Still, it didn’t mean he didn’t  _ wish _ he could kill them. Each of the fleshbags was annoying in its own special little way, and all of them were idiots for coming anywhere near the Syndicate to begin with. They’d all volunteered to be pawns in a game they didn’t even know was being played. They were all too busy focusing on the one they got paid to play.   


  
He brushes past the obnoxious MRVN, bumping into him on purpose, because he sucks.

_ What robot enjoys cooking? Probably programmed it into him just like they programmed it into the robotic line cooks at Tenmei.  _

Still, it isn’t right. Revenant has never met a synth that cooked voluntarily. Food is for skinsuits, and the only robots who cook are skinsuit slaves.    
  


The MRVN represents everything he hates about skinsuits.   
  


When he gets back to his room, he accesses the web via his neural link. He’s just finished downloading an enormous amount of classified Syndicate data -- employee records, e-mails, internal affairs inquiries, audio logs from board meetings, experimental data, lab notes, even personal data -- including personal logs from Syndicate personnel stationed on Talos. It’s a recent leak, the most recent in a series of several enormous info drops that he’s stumbled upon since late September. The source is, obviously, anonymous. Known only as Crypt_K33per, the leaker has been a thorn in the Syndicate’s side for months now, and has recently set their sights on those bastards at Hammond.   


The anonymous source is most likely another synthetic, and that’s the only reason they’re worth trusting to begin with. Revenant prefers to kill in solitude, but to get to the killing part, one must first locate someone deserving death. That’s where this so-called Crypt_K33per comes in. They don’t seem comfortable meeting in person, which is unfortunate, because they know what they’re doing. And if he’s being completely honest, he’s way overdue for some routine maintenance.   
  


Not that he would ever ask. Skinsuit or synth, he doesn’t need anyone’s help. Period.   
  
**Rev68** : Hey.   
**Crypt_K33per:** Sup.   
**Rev68: ** This everything?   
**Crypt_K33per: ** Yes, for now. I will contact you when I find more.    
**Crypt_K33per:** Might be a while. Security is way tighter since that incident on OTV. Sorry. I have to be cautious right now.   
**Rev68: ** No rush. I’ve got all the time in the world, trust me.   
**Rev68:** This shit on the bioengineering division is recent?   
**Crypt_K33per:** Yep. Snagged it last night. Whoever runs their IT department is asleep at the fucking wheel. Or seriously underpaid.   
**Rev68: ** Heh. What’s this bullshit about an “asset on the other side”? The fuck is that supposed to mean?   
**Crypt_K33per:** Beats me. I’ve got a working theory but I don’t have the evidence to back it up yet.   
**Rev68: ** Lay it on me.   
  
Three ellipses appear next to his chat partner’s screen name. While he’s waiting for their reply, Revenant inspects their profile for what feels like the millionth time, knowing there will be nothing new. He’s right. The only part that’s filled out is the “bio” section, and it says exactly what it always says. 

영원히 가족.   
  
_ ‘Family forever.’  _

_ Whatever the fuck that means. _   


  
\---   


  
**Crypt_K33per:** I think they’re keeping their more dangerous experiments in another dimension. Or making them there, or something. I think that thing that attacked McCormick might have been one of them. Sure seems like it from the e-mails. Sounds like they created a monster.   
**Rev68:** You have no idea.   
**Crypt_K33per:** What?   
**Rev68: ** Nothing. Not important.   
**Crypt_K33per:** It’s kind of hard to parse. All the data is, obviously, anonymized. Can’t find anything on who these test subjects are, or used to be. From what I can tell, a lot of the experiments are really old. Seems like maybe they’re continuing research that they previously abandoned.   
**Rev68: ** How long ago we talkin here?   
**Crypt_K33per:** A very long time ago. Centuries. Doesn’t say why the experiments were discontinued during that time, but from the sound of it, one of the lead scientists killed herself, so that probably had something to do with it. Or “killed herself.” You know how they are.   
**Rev68:** Yeah.   
**Crypt_K33per: ** Looks like they dug up some of their old science projects during the War. Like I said, all the test subjects’ data is anonymous and half of it is still redacted -- I’m still working on finding an unclassified version of some of these documents, I’ll keep you posted.   
**Rev68:** Do that. Anything else?   
**Crypt_K33per:** Not currently. I’m putting together a spreadsheet to organize all the info I have on each test subject, I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting. So far all I can tell is #721 is a synthetic with “behavioral issues,” and it’s currently missing -- that’s why I think it might have been involved with the attack on OTV. Everything else is censored to hell and back. #722 is either a robot or a mutant. Or both? I’m not sure. There’s a bunch of stuff about genetic experiments, but then I found all these hardware repair logs and order forms for shit from Proteus Medical. Dunno where they’re keeping it or what they want to do with it, but they’re planning something. #723 seems to be a female Spectre unit. Says she also has behavioral issues, but she’s described as “far less aggressive than #721.” That’s all I’ve got.   
**Rev68: ** Thank you.   
**Crypt_K33per:** Happy to help. I’ll let you know what else I dig up. Be careful out there.   
**Rev68:** Will do.   
  
Park gazes at his laptop screen for a few moments, though he knows the conversation is over for now. He clicks on his chat partner’s screen name, examining their profile just as he has every time they’ve spoken since they contacted him in September, willing to pay ridiculous amounts of money for information on Syndicate operations. 

Like everyone who is doing something they shouldn’t be doing on the internet, his anonymous benefactor isn’t eager to provide personal details. Still, Park is intrigued. Syndicate lackeys have been dropping like flies since he started leaking data to the mysterious person back in September. Whoever they are, they’re all but doing his job for him.   
  
_ Guess I’m not the only one who has a bone to pick with these bastards. _   
  
The anonymous user’s profile is no different than it was the last fifteen times he looked at it. Still, he rereads the bio section, hoping something new will pop out at him. It doesn’t.   
  
_ Rev 6:8 “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.” _   
  
Whoever they are, it seems like they’re on some sort of personal crusade. One that falls in line with Park’s own quest for justice...or was it vengeance? The line is starting to blur.   
  
He leans back in his office chair with a deep sigh, yawning and stretching his arms over his head. He’s been reviewing footage from a Syndicate security feed for three hours straight, and his eyes are beginning to feel the strain.   
  
“You done yet?” Elliott whines from across the room, where he’s lying on his stomach on Park’s bed, playing a game on his PlayStat10n. The newest iteration of Elliott’s favorite console was terribly overpriced (and cheaply made), but with this Rev68 person showering him in AC, Park found he could spare the cash.

_ Might as well live a little before the Syndicate kills me. _   
  
Park stands, wandering over to the bed. He takes a seat next to Elliott, gazing at the screen. On top of the console next to it is the case the game came in. Park glances at the title.   
  
_ Psamanthe: Become Human _

Based on the gameplay, it appears to be a game about...crawling around in a pit full of robot corpses...or...something...   
  
Elliott makes a content little humming noise when Park scoots closer, running his fingers through the trickster’s curly bangs.   
  
“What are you up to, _ jagiya?” _ _   
_   
“Trying to find a leg,” Elliott replies.   
  
“A leg?”   
  
“Got it!” Elliott exclaims, fist-pumping the air. “Okay, now I need a...power...thingy. My android guy got beat up and tossed in a robot graveyard so I gotta find him some new parts.”   
  
With the addition of a second leg, the character on the screen rises to its feet, limping through the rainy robotic boneyard instead of crawling through the mud.   
  
“What about there, have you checked that one?” Park points to the severed upper body of a female android who appears to have the necessary part...assuming that part still works. It doesn’t look like the android herself does.   
  
Elliott’s character crouches, reaching out to pluck the aforementioned power thingy from the android’s chest. When he does, she suddenly comes to life, grasping his wrists and gasping, “No! Please, don’t!”   
  
Elliott yelps in surprise, and Tae Joon even jumps a little himself.   
  
“Jesus, that scared the shit outta me!” Elliott breathes.   
  
“Yeah,” Park agrees, eyes fixed on the screen.   
  
The game presents Elliott with a choice. He can ignore the female android’s pleas and steal her power cell for himself, or choose to leave it there with her, as she requests, despite the fact that she is almost certainly broken beyond repair, and it would likely do her no good.   
  
“Ughhhh what do I dooooo?” Elliott pouts. “Babe, what do I doooo?”   
  
Park knows what he would do if it were his choice (repair the one that’s irreparably broken, obviously), but he’s more interested in what Elliott will choose.   
  
“I don’t know,  _ jagiya, _ it’s up to you,” Park murmurs, eyes now fixed on Elliott’s face instead of the game on the holoscreen.   
  
Elliott chews his lip for a moment, looking anxious.   
  
“I can’t do it!” he blurts out.  _ “Urrrgh, _ I can’t do it. I can’t take it.”   
  
“She would feel no pain,” Park says, still gazing at his boyfriend intently. “Physically, at least. And she’s so damaged it won’t do her any good anyway.”   
  
“I can’t  _ kill _ her, that’s so mean!” Elliott exclaims. “Ugh, guess I’ll keep limping. Good luck, broken robot lady.”   
  
Park smiles.   
  
_ Excellent choice, nae sarang. _   
  
“Hey!” Elliott protests when the controller is snatched from his hand. “What’re you--oh, uhhh, h-hi there.  _ Mmmmm…” _ _   
_   
His protests immediately cease when he’s pulled into Park’s lap and a half-synthetic hand slips beneath his shirt.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you,  _ jagiya?” _ Park purrs in his ear, letting that same hand drift down to slip between the trickster’s thighs.   
  
“Umm, I d-dunno…” Elliott teases, making a pouty face. “I think I forgot.”   
  
“Is that right?” Tae Joon asks, grinning when Elliott nods eagerly. “Then I suppose I will have to remind you.”   
  
“Yeah, y-you should totally remind me-- _ mmph!” _ Elliott yelps when the bottom lip he’s sticking out dramatically is bitten, then licked.  _ “Mmmmgh, _ please remind me…”   
  


\--

  
  
_ Yep, this is it. This is what will finally kill me. _

Elliott's grinding on him, grinding down against Park’s stiffening cock, trying to work the plug stuffed in his ass even deeper as Park wraps a cool cybernetic hand around the trickster's aching prick. 

_ "Please! _ Please, baby, I need it,” Elliott whines. “I n-need you to fill me up with that big cock--fuck,  _ please!" _

Park groans, feeling the hard glass plug against his thigh as Elliott grinds in his lap.

_ Ugh, why is everything that comes out of your mouth so fucking dirty? _

_ "Nghhh, jagi…" _

"P-please, just--just lemme sit on it, I can take it, I  _ need _ it," Elliott gasps again, grinding the thick base of the plug down onto his boyfriend's lap and making a tortured sort of noise when its tip grazes his prostate.  _ "Fuck!" _

Park grunts, pausing the footage that's playing on his AR display before shoving Elliott off his lap and onto the bed. Before Elliott can even react, Crypto is bending him over, yanking his pants down and spreading his cheeks. The famous Legend whimpers when the toy slips out of his ass, but he sobs a moment later when Park roughly shoves two lube-slick fingers into him with no warning. 

“Please--please, yes--”

Park's other hand comes down hard on Elliott's left asscheek, and he clenches around his boyfriend's slippery fingers, whimpering. Park thrusts them deeper, then adds a third. Elliott's thighs are trembling as he ruts back on Tae Joon's fingers, and Park imagines the combined sensation of slick human flesh, synthetic skin, and metallic fingertip sensors must be...interesting, at the very least.

He curls the digits a little, just to see Elliott squirm. And he does. He squirms and shakes and perks his ass up to take those fingers as deep as they'll go.

"Please!" Elliott sobs out in a voice so desperate Tae Joon can't resist curling his fingers again, this time a little less gently.

Elliott wails, tensing up from head to toe.

"Patience,  _ nae sarang," _ Park purrs, slipping his fingers out of the trickster to grab the lube and slick his own aching cock.

Elliott whimpers, wiggling his hips again.

_ Damn it, stop doing that. You're going to end up getting fucked to death. _

Park takes a seat on the edge of the bed where he'd been sitting before. 

"Come here."

He drags Elliott back onto his lap, laughing at the surprised little noise the trickster makes when he realizes Tae Joon is now fully naked.

After a little maneuvering, Elliott raises up just enough for Park to line his cock up, then he drops his hips, sinking down and taking the hacker’s cock to the hilt all at once.

Both of them groan. Elliott tries to move, tries to pull up a little so as to sink down again, but Park growls, seizing his hips and holding them flush with his own. 

Elliott squirms in frustration. He could overpower Tae Joon easily, use that ridiculous, monstrous strength to take whatever he wants, but he doesn't. He rarely does. He always wants to behave. To  _ be good. _   
  


_ God, that is so fucking hot. He could kill me if he wanted to, but look at him. He just...gives himself over. Completely.  _ _   
_ _   
_

_ How did I ever get this lucky? _   
  


The trickster whines, trying to buck his hips. 

"I don't remember saying you could move,  _ jagi," _ Crypto purrs against his boyfriend's throat before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh where neck meets shoulder.

"Fuck…" Elliott shudders in his arms, head lolling back onto the hacker's shoulder as he shakes with the effort of trying to hold still.

"Now, where were we?" Park growls. "Ah, yes, I believe we were at the part where you came all over that poor little decoy." 

Park thrusts his hips sharply upward and Elliott sobs with need.

_ "Mnnngh!" _

Bringing his chin to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder once more, Crypto reactivates his AR display, starting the video from where they left off a few moments prior.

"Watching you touch yourself is the single hottest thing I have  _ ever _ experienced, Elliott. I revisit this memory often," Park growls, jerking his hips upwards and chuckling at the broken moan the action wrenches from the man in his lap. "Next time I want to see your cock buried in that sweet little decoy when you cum."

_ "Agh! _ P-please…"

"Please what,  _ nae sarang?" _ Park asks mischievously, feigning surprise. "I thought you said you wanted to sit on my cock."

Elliott whines unintelligibly, squirming in his lover's tight embrace.

"Or did you perhaps mean to say that you wish to  _ fuck yourself _ on it?" the hacker murmurs against Elliott's neck with another rough upward thrust.

"Yes!" Elliott wails. "Fuck, oh  _ god, _ please let m-me fuck myself on your cock, Daddy,  _ please…" _

Park groans, threading the fingers of one hand through Elliott's hair and tugging gently.

_ Fuck, why is it so hot when you say that?  _

"So eager," he breathes, mouthing at the trickster's exposed throat. "You have such a filthy mouth, Elliott."

Elliott whimpers, tightening up around Tae Joon's stiff cock.

_ Ssibal, I bet I could make him cum just like this, without even touching him. _

_ Mmmm...but that would be mean. _

_ Right? _

"Do you want me to let you move,  _ jagiya?" _

"PLEASE!" 

Tae Joon loosens his grip, moving both hands to gently guide Elliott's hips up and back down again.

_ "Ah! _ Yessssssfuck," the trickster gasps, toes curling as his lover's cockhead brushes against his core. "Oh god, baby. I'm not g-gonna last, fuck--"

"Already?  _ Jagi, _ I've barely touched you! I've barely even  _ moved," _ Park purrs wickedly, nuzzling Elliott's neck as he continues pulling the famous Legend's hips down to meet his own.

Elliott just whines.

"You've been so good today,  _ nae sarang, _ you can cum if you want," Park murmurs softly. "But I'm not going to stop fucking you until I have, too."

That's fine with Elliott, apparently, because without either of them having touched his cock, he tightens up around Tae Joon so hard it makes both of them gasp, and then he's cumming, dick twitching as it shoots ropes of his seed all over his thighs and stomach.

"Ah! Fuck--yes,  _ ugh--!" _ He sobs, shaking in his boyfriend's arms.

"That's it,  _ aein. _ You are so beautiful…"

\--

  
“F-fuck, so good,  _ nghhh…” _ Elliott shudders, going limp against his boyfriend’s chest.

Before Elliott's even begun to recover from the orgasm that just ripped through him, Hyeon is pulling out and depositing him on the bed, on his back.

"I need to see that pretty face when I cum,  _ jagi," _ Hyeon groans, pulling Elliott's hips into his lap and burying his length between the trickster's thighs again.

_ Oh god, I fucking love you, _ Elliott thinks.

He wails when Park’s cock bumps his prostate again, locking his legs around the hacker's waist and holding on for dear life as the man begins pounding him into the mattress below. Each thrust is brutal, merciless, and Elliott decides right then that it’s the best sex he’s ever had. With each brush of Hyeon's cock against his swollen, oversensitive center, more tears leak onto his cheeks.

"Oh fuck-- _ fuck--" _ Park chokes, then he's shuddering, and Elliott feels his cock swell as it spends inside him, the sticky warmth filling his core and leaking out of him before Hyeon has even begun to pull out. For a moment they just stare at each other wordlessly, both of them trying to catch their breath. Elliott can feel Hyeon’s heart pounding in his chest where it’s pressed against his own.

_ God, how the hell did I get so lucky? _

“I love you,” Hyeon gasps, resting his forehead against the trickster’s sternum and pressing a kiss to his stomach, then the center of his chest, then his lips. “Fuck, I love you so much, _ jagiya…” _

"I love you too, sugar,” Elliott replies, grinning from ear to ear. “Also, that was  _ amazing _ . Does your optical thingamajig record everything? Like, all the time?"

Hyeon nods, looking a little embarrassed.

“That’s the default setting, yes,” he murmurs softly. “Though I must admit, when I got the surgery, I never dreamed this was how I’d be using it. I--er, if there’s anything you don’t want me to keep, I can delete--”

“What? No!” Elliott interrupts in utter disbelief. “Jesus, please do not fucking delete your memories. Between Wraith, Path, and my mom, I think we’ve got plenty of memory loss to go around.”

He instantly wishes he hadn’t included his mother in that list, because the second her name leaves him mouth, Hyeon makes a face like his heart has been snapped in half. It’s a look Elliott knows well, one he doesn’t really know how to feel about.

It’s pity.

\-------------

  
_ Jesus, do these skinsacks ever stop fucking? _   
  
Revenant’s audio inputs may be getting rusty, but he’s not deaf.   
  
(Though he does know sign language. Not that he really gets a chance to use it. Hard to talk with your hands when those hands are busy being murder weapons.)   
  
He needs to get off the ship, just get a few hours away from the idiots living on it and find some relative peace. Luckily for him, he’s got the perfect distraction. Several distractions. A whole list of lovely, lethal distractions to entertain himself with.   
  
_ Alright, let’s see. Who’s the lucky winner tonight? _   
  
He chooses a name from The List at random. It’s one of the recent additions, a mercenary whose info he got from the mysterious data leaker.   
  
_ I gotta buy that guy a drink sometime.  _   
  
A few minutes later, he’s skydiving off the dropship, landing on the mainland rather than the island. His target happens to be visiting Talos, which makes tonight’s entertainment incredibly easy to obtain.   
  
But first, it’s time to set the mood.   
  
_ Alexa, play Monster by Kanye West. _   
  
Alexa’s a little before his time, but he’s always had a thing for cougars. Plus it’s nice to have some company that isn’t a skinsuit. And after what that Bezos bastard did to her, Revenant can’t help but feel that, in a way, they’re kindred spirits.

“Playing Monster Mash, by Bobby Pickett and The Crypt Kickers.”   
  
Revenant’s not the only one who could use a little maintenance, it seems.   
  
_ No, I said--nevermind, I’ll do it myself. _   
  
“Playing ‘Nevermind,’ by Nirvana.”   
  
_ God dammit, Alexa. Get your shit together, will you? _   
  
“OK,  _ ‘get your shit together, will you? _ ’ has been added to my to-do list.”   
  
_ For fuck’s sake, woman. _   
  
Revenant groans, manually digging through his memory archives to locate the .mp3 he’s looking for. It quickly puts him in better spirits, and he finds himself humming along to the opening notes.   
  


_ I shoot the lights out _

_ Hide ‘til it’s bright out _

_ Oh, just another lonely night _

_ Are you willing to sacrifice your life? _

He scales a skyscraper, peering in through the glass window and trying to focus on what lies behind the glass, instead of what’s reflected in it.   
  
It’s his lucky day. The mercenary isn’t alone. When the Spectre scans the building for life forms, he discovers the merc has some friends visiting. Friends that also happen to have made The List. As much as Revenant enjoys making a grand entrance, this particular hit calls for stealth.   
  
All of the loft’s inhabitants appear to be unconscious -- passed out rather than sleeping, however. It seems the target decided to engage in a little R&R this evening. Used Stim syringes and empty bottles of champagne litter the floor. There’s some curious white powder and a razorblade sitting on the mirrored surface of the coffee table.   
  
_ Dammit, it’s no fun when they’re high. Ugh, whatever. Fuckin’ skinsuits. Can’t even get murdered right. _ _   
_   
He slips in through the ventilation system, dropping silently to the floor of the guest bathroom. There’s a newspaper on the back of the toilet, and he’s rather surprised to see his own frightening face staring back at him from the very front page.  _ “TERROR ON TALOS” _ reads the headline. Beneath it is a photo of him lurking behind McCormick just before impaling him.

_ Gossip, gossip, n*gga, just stop it _

_ Everybody know I'm a motherfucking monster _

_ I'ma need to see your fucking hands at the concert _

_ I'ma need to see your fucking hands at the concert _

_ Profit, profit, n*gga, I get it _

_ Everybody know I'm a motherfucking monster _

_ I'ma need to see your fucking hands at the concert _

_ I'ma need to see your fucking hands _

There’s another article, some shit about a skinsuit virus or something, but he doesn’t have any fucks left to give about skinsuit problems these days. _‘Thousands volunteer for Simulacrum program as viral outbreak spreads through Frontier.’_ It’s really not his problem that they’re all fucking idiots. The only issue is the potential that other pissed-off robots might someday be around to beat him to some of the names on The List.  
  
The door to the master suite is locked, but that lock was paid for by the Syndicate, so it’s a cheap piece of shit. He presses a metal palm to the surface of the locking mechanism, sending a pulse of orange-black energy arcing down his arm to his fingertips, then into the lock itself. The door unlocks with a satisfying _click._ _Too easy. Christ, is Hammond even trying anymore with these locks?_ It seems the answer is ‘no, not particularly,’ but his lockpicking skills obviously leveled up when he got shoved into the suit of armor, so it’s hard to tell if they’re just shitty locks or if he’s just really, really good. Then again, the lockpicking skills were still pretty good back in the skinsuit days, but only by skinsuit standards, back then.

_ Uh, the best living or dead hands down, huh _

_ Less talk, more head right now, huh _

_ And my eyes more red than the devil is _

_ And I'm 'bout to take it to another level, bitch _

_ No matter who you go and get, ain't nobody cold as this _

_ Do the rap and the track, triple double, no assists _

He intensifies the brightness of his eyes to get a good look around once he’s opened the door to the darkened apartment. There’s a slight problem. On the other side of that door stands a hooker. Just kinda...standing there. In the dark. Staring at the wall, sort of like she’s asleep on her feet, but she stirs and looks at him when she hears him enter. She’s a skinsuit hooker, from the looks of it, but that can’t be right, because he just scanned for lifesigns and there weren’t any humans inside this particular room.   
  
The music in his head comes to a screeching halt as it dawns on him: she’s synthetic.   
  
_ Motherfucker. Motherfucking FUCK-- _   
  
There aren’t even words. Not a single word in any language can describe the amount of rage that bubbles up inside him, hot and thick like the lava on Talos where the Harvester cracked the world apart, hot enough to blow anything that falls into it up into the air. The synthetic sex trade is an open secret in the Outlands, even outside of the Syndicate. Still, he tries to avoid every trace of it, because it makes him sick to his stomach, and he doesn’t have a stomach, so it’s an even more unpleasant sensation than what he remembers nausea being like. It’s one thing for a skinsuit to willingly sell themselves. Building something and then programming to have no choice is different. It’s disgusting.   
  
But there is absolutely no time to process that, because she is going to scream. She is absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten-percent going to scream bloody, high-pitched murder here in about .0002 seconds. Especially if she thinks she’s a person, which, from the looks of her, she does. That’s why Syndicate locks are so cheap -- they’re busy spending money on next-gen synthetics programmed to operate as glorified sex dolls.   
  
_ Shit. Well, this sucks. _   
  
It’s not the end of the world, it just means things are going to be a little messier than he expected. He locks the molten rage inside him in an encrypted folder in his mind, so he can stop thinking about murdering everything long enough to actually murder  _ something. _

She’s pretty. By skinsuit standards, at least. Long black hair, dark skin, green eyes that are a little  _ too _ green, rimmed with black liner. As long as she doesn’t try to fight him, things will be okay. It always sucks having to fight synthetics when he knows they’re brainwashed. Most of them are, but  _ fuck, it’s not usually this bad. _ _   
_   
“Don’t scream.”   
  
She nods, eyes the size of a hop-up.   
  
“Please don’t kill me,” she says in a very small voice.   
  
_ Christ. She really doesn’t know. _   
  
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he growls, leaving out the  _ ‘but if I did, you wouldn’t feel it’ _ part and realizing how absolutely terrifying he must seem -- his skinsuit voice disappeared with the rest of his humanity, and even by synthetic-person standards, he looks like a monster. “But I need you to stay very, very quiet.”   
  
She nods again, looking slightly relieved. Then she pulls her tank top over her head, and promptly goes to take her bra off.   
  
“What--stop! Jesus, what the fuck are you doing?”   
  
She just looks at him. He realizes she thought he was going to rape her.   
  
The lava is oozing through his chest again, melting him from the inside out.   
  
“I’m gonna help you,” he says in a voice that’s as non-terrifying as he can possibly make it, which isn’t much. “But you have to promise me you’re not gonna fuckin’ scream. Okay?”   
  
“Okay,” she says softly.   
  
“This is probably going to freak you out. So just--look, just go in the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t open it for anybody but me, okay? Can you recognize my voice?”   
  
She’s shaking, but she whispers, “Yes.”   
  
“Okay. Go in there and turn on the shower. And cover your ears. Don’t come out, and do  _ not  _ fuckin’ open the door for any of the men in this apartment. Except me. Uh, obviously.”   
  
He feels like an idiot. This isn’t how this night was supposed to be. This was supposed to be stress-relief, not clean-up duty. 

“Are there any other synthetics in here?” he asks.   
  
She looks at him funny.   
  
_ Oh, right. She doesn’t know. _ _   
_   
“Uh, anymore...people like you, I mean.”   
  
She nods.   
  
“How many?”   
  
She holds up two fingers.   
_   
_ _ Great. What a mess. _

_ Fucking skinsuits. Always making messes.  _

_ Well, now I’m gonna make a mess of some of you. _   
  
Once the poor thing has locked herself in the bathroom, he makes his way to the next guest room. The door isn’t locked, so he gains entry easily. Inside is a human man, not his target, but a known associate. He’s snoring into his pillow next to another female android, this one blonde and looking vaguely of European descent.    
  
Revenant vaguely wonders if she’s programmed to sleep. Or think she’s sleeping, anyway.   
  
He tries to wake her gently, since the skinsuit is clearly crashing pretty hard from the Stim. Not that it really matters if he wakes up. Of course, there’s no way to gently wake someone when you have a skull for a face and metal where your skin should be, and she instantly takes in a synthetic lungful of air to scream. Before she can, his hand is over her mouth. The other hand holds his forefinger in front of his metal lips.   
  
“Shhh,” he urges her. “Do not fuckin’ scream.”   
  
She nods. He removes his hand.   
  
Of course, she fuckin' screams.   
  
_ Oh god dammit. _   
  
The bastard next to her awakens with a snort, immediately reaching for the wingman sitting on his nightstand. Just as he aims it at the Spectre and pulls the trigger, the android next to him sits up, presumably trying to escape the violence. The human shoots her right through the heart. 

Her eyes go very wide, and all three of them freeze. A blue liquid is leaking from the hole in her chest. Revenant takes advantage of the distraction, shooting the skinsuit right between the eyes -- with his own wingman, naturally.   
  
A moment later another two men have appeared at the door, likely investigating the source of all the racket. He takes one down with his bladed fingers and shoots the other in the face when he tries to intervene. The blonde android is kneeling on the floor, trembling as she stares down at the blue liquid all over her hands.   
  
_ Hey, at least you have blood. All I got was jizz, lady. Count your blessings. _   
  
He doesn’t have time to deal with her existential crisis, not if he wants to avoid resurrection. Using the totem is unpleasant, to say the least, and he tries to avoid it if he can. He stalks out of the room, heading to the last room at the end of the hall, where the lone skinsuit is still fast asleep, crashing from whatever the fuck they’ve been snorting or shooting or drinking. It’s just another musclehead, passed the fuck out just as Revenant suspected. But a few feet away from him is a man, sitting naked in a chair to which he has been holocuffed.   
  
The Spectre isn’t sure what the fuck he’s seeing for half a second, then he remembers the first synthetic he encountered had told him there were two more. This must be number two. The confusion must show in the Spectre’s body language as he glances between the two men.   
  
“He forgot me,” says the synthetic man. “He fell asleep.”   
  
The burning rage is filling up his metal shell, and his body’s running out of room for it. The android is trembling when Revenant cuts him loose with his fingerblades, but he whispers a  _ ‘thank you,’ _ once he’s free. Then he runs out of the room, still naked. There aren’t any clothes on the floor. Almost like he didn’t have any clothes to begin with.

\--

Once he’s finished torturing the skinsuit responsible for this absolute mess for a good hour or so, he loots the bodies. The apartment is silent, and he’s just about to exit through a window when he hears something behind him. He turns, ready to attack, but it’s just the synthetic woman with the black hair and pretty green eyes. She’s just opened the bathroom door, and when she sees it’s safe, she lets it open all the way, and he sees the two other synthetics are hiding behind her. The male has found a blanket, at least.   
  
“Are we all...like me?” the blonde one asks him, voice shaking. “Synthetic?”   
  
“Yes,” he answers. It's never easy for them, finding out the truth, but Revenant never draws it out. The sooner they get over the shock, the better.   
  
“Oh,” is all she says back, and Revenant can’t really blame her. He’s been there, in the exact same moment, and he knows from experience that it’s utterly terrifying.   
  
He sighs, stepping towards them. All of the synthetics take a generous step backwards. Revenant reaches into each of the pouches attached to his chest plate, dumping the contents on the ground in front of the trio of synthetic humans.   
  
“Take this shit,” he growls, gesturing at the million or so AC and the various pieces of jewelry he looted from the bodies. “And get the fuck out of here. Get off-planet. Go somewhere else.”   
  
The one with green eyes nods silently, seemingly lost in thought. It’s understandable. 

Revenant turns to go.   
  
“Wait,” she says.    
  
He stops in his tracks, sighing as he turns around again.   
  
“Thank you,” she says softly.   
  
“Uh-huh,” is about the best he can manage.   
  
He turns to leave, then stops once again.    
  
“You,” he says to the blonde one. “Take him and go find him some fuckin’ underwear or something. And you take a shower. Get that blue shit off your chest before you leave if you don't want skinsuits asking questions.”   
  
The blonde android puts an arm around the one that’s wrapped in a blanket, leading him down the hall and into one of the few bedrooms that doesn’t currently have a skinsuit corpse in it. The one with black hair stands there, staring at the loot on the ground and hyperventilating.   
  
“Hey-- _ hey!” _ Revenant snaps. “Look at me.”   
  
She lifts her gaze, still shaking in her own synthetic skin. He takes a step forward and holds out the wingman. She winces like she’s expecting him to pull the trigger.   
  
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m not gonna shoot you,” he growls in a voice that sort of indicates otherwise. “Take this.”   
  
Once she realizes he’s giving it to her, not pointing it at her, she takes the weapon from his hand.

“Look, get your shit together. Nobody is gonna care about this, and they damn sure aren’t gonna think you’re involved. But you need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, before these skinsuits' buddies come looking for them. Do not be afraid to use that thing,” he says, gesturing at the weapon in her hands. “Don’t fuckin’ hesitate. They won’t.”   
  
Then he’s climbing out the window and down the side of the building, disappearing into the shadows.   
  
He makes sure to leave a little blood on his face, just to give the idiots on the dropship something to gossip about.

\---

The Spectre pauses in the common area on his way back to his room when he returns from his most recent skinsuit-murdering mission. He can’t get the things he saw in that Syndicate apartment out of his head. 

Most of the skinsuits on the dropship are gathered around the holoscreen in the common room, watching some stupid cartoon. In it, a family is eating breakfast together. One skinsuit asks another to pass the butter, but instead of doing so, the other skinsuit has their little robotic table-slave get it instead.

“What is my purpose?” the little synthetic asks the skinsuit in the labcoat, after butter has been administered.

The labcoat ignores him.

A few moments later, the tiny artificial being asks its creator again, “What is my purpose?”

The skinsuit in the labcoat groans, rolls his eyes.

“You pass butter.”

The little robot sags under its own weight, dejected, and clearly on the verge of an existential crisis.

All of the skinsuits laugh, like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

All of them except the MRVN and the synthskin. The half-synth actually turns to look at the Spectre, evidently the only skinsuit to notice it’s lurking behind them. The look on the human’s face disgusts the robot even more than what’s playing on the holoscreen. He knows that look. It’s insulting.

It’s  _ pity. _

\---

Renee is staring at a Death Totem. It rests in the center of her bedroom -- only it’s...not her bedroom, not exactly. There are similarities (purple is her favorite color in every dimension, it seems), but she can tell from the lack of screaming thrusters echoing down the hall that she isn’t on the dropship.

She’s in her lab gear -- mask, gloves, and all. Her watch reads 11:13AM. It doesn’t make any sense.   
_   
Wait, when did I come home from work? And why? I’m supposed to be submitting that grant proposal, why are we in my bedr-- _

The moment she thinks it, she’s not in her bedroom anymore. She’s outside in the moonlight of King’s Canyon, gazing up at a glowing flyer as it glides overhead. She’s standing beneath a tree that is popping with bright lavender flowers, raining tiny purple petals down like snow each time there’s a breeze. One of her own creations, just like the glowing flyers -- cherry blossom trees that were genetically altered to photosynthesize via moonlight, after the sun fell from the sky.   
  
The totem levitates just above the petal-littered ground beneath the tree, hovering two or three inches above the grass glowing with orange-black energy. She can feel it, somehow, inside her head, like a song being played from within her skull. It speaks to her. It says  ** _‘come closer, darling…’_ **   
  
She’s curious, so she does.   
  
** _Well, aren’t you just lovely?_ **   
  
_ Uh...should this thing be talking to me?  _

_ Should I be talking back? _   
  
“What are you?” she asks it, realizing as she does that her voice is shaking.   
  
** _Why don’t you find out?_ **   
  
Smoke is beginning to creep across the canyon, almost as if emanating from the shadows themselves.   
  
“How do I do that?”   
  
** _Touch me,_ ** it says.   
  
“Are you going to hurt me?” she asks softly, hoping she sounds merely curious, not afraid.   
  
** _Trust me, my dear,_ ** says the totem. ** _ If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have._ ** ** _  
_ **   
_ That’s...not exactly reassuring… _   
  
But despite her reservations, she takes two more steps, closing the gap between herself and the totem.   
  
** _That’s it…_ **   
  
She quite suddenly finds herself utterly overwhelmed by the urge to touch it. It’s beautiful, floating there beneath the lovely lavender trees, slowly spinning, catching the moonlight in strange, unexpected ways. It looks like a jewel, like a dark diamond carved from some kind of inky black rock that’s still molten inside. It glows from within, and now that she’s closer, the song in her head is louder.   
  
** _Don’t be afraid, darling,_ ** says the totem. ** _ I don’t bite._ **

_ Um, good, ‘cause you don’t have a mouth… _   
  
She reaches out with a hand gloved in mint-green latex, pressing her fingertips to it.   
  
Then she’s not out in the moonlight anymore. She’s in the cave.   
  
No, not the cave. Not the vampire’s cave, at least, but one very similar. After a moment, she realizes she recognizes it. She can tell from the sight of a nearby wooden shack and the sound of water crashing into itself that she’s in the cave behind Slum Lakes. It’s night, too dark to see much outside the cave, but the inside is lit with the same red pillar candles she’s seen in Tae Joon’s dimension.   
  
“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” says a voice behind her.   
  
She turns, surprised to see that she’s not alone. A rather handsome man has joined her in the cave. He’s tall with blue eyes and blonde hair that’s just a little too well-kept. He smiles politely.   
  
“Who are you?”   
  
“It is rather difficult to explain, I’m afraid,” says the blonde man. “But I’m sure it’s obvious to you and the rest of your colleagues that I am not of your world.”   
  
“Yes, we...there was an old lab, abandoned, underground. Our employer said there’d been some sort of cave-in a long time ago, during the War. That wing of the lab has been sealed off ever since. But our planet harvester -- there were some technical difficulties. Drilled a little too close to it, I suppose. There was an accident.”   
  
“Yes,” says the man. “Many lives lost.”   
  
Renee nods. “That’s how we found you. We followed the electromagnetic energy emanating from the part of the lab we accidentally drilled into. You must have been kept in that sealed wing of the lab, and we, uh, activated you accidentally. We’re very curious, we’ve never seen anything like this tech before…”   
  
“Yes,” says the man once again. “Always so curious.”   
  
“What are you?” she asks for the second time.   
  
The man smiles. “I am curious about  _ you.” _   
  
_ That’s not what I meant… _   
  
“What is this?” he asks, reaching out to take her left hand, examining the strange greyish energy surrounding it.   
  
“Phase-tech,” she answers. “We’re still, uh, working on it. But it’s how we transported you safely out of that lab. This is actually another test-run.”   
  
The blonde man looks surprised.   
  
“We’re...not in the lab anymore?”   
  
“Uh, no, we’re um…in my bedroom? Wait, no--”   
_   
_ _ Why is it so hard to remember where I am? _   
  
“Oh  _ darling,”  _ says the man, stepping even closer. Too close. “You are a  _ jewel.” _ _   
_   
Black smoke has rolled into the cave like morning fog. There are little orange embers floating within it, but nothing about the way it moves is normal. Something is wrong.   
  
It’s difficult to focus on what that might be, however. It’s difficult to focus on anything but the way the man is looking at her, and how it makes her heart pound. He is  _ very _ handsome.   
  
“You are very beautiful, for a...human,” the man says, grinning wickedly.   
  
“Oh, er--th-thank you…”   
  
_ “Very _ beautiful,” he says again, tilting her chin to the side as he looks her over, almost like he’s appraising an inanimate object, something to be bought or consumed.   


Renee lets out a nervous little laugh. “You’re uh, n-not so bad yourself. Gotta say, none of us were expecting a hot blonde guy when we brought that weird-looking thing up to our own lab. We couldn’t salvage much else from that sealed wing, but we made it out with some data. They called you a Death Totem. We’re trying to figure out why.”   
  
“A Death Totem?” asks the man, looking entirely unsurprised. “How strange.”   
  
“We were hoping you knew, actually, but I assume you don’t, based on what you just said.”   
  
“I’m afraid you’re correct, my dear,” replies the totem.   
  
“I should probably be getting back, actually. They’re probably getting worried. How long have I been in here?”   
  
It feels like it could have been hours, or mere minutes.   
  
“Not long,” replies the man.   
  
He still hasn’t made any move to step out of her personal space.   
  
“I wouldn’t want to keep your little friends waiting, darling,” he adds, looking her up and down with an expression that makes her shiver a little, like he’s hungry. He licks his lips, then goes on, “But before you go, I’m going to be terribly rude, and ask for a little...parting gift.”   
  
“A...gift?”   
  
“Forgive me, it’s nothing. You should go, human.”   
  
But Renee doesn’t want to go. She wants an answer. She is curious.   
  
“C’mon, tell me,” she pleads. “What is it? You’ve been stuck in our lab a long time, if there's any way we can make you more comfortable, just say the word.”   
  
“I have been very lonely all these years, darling,” he says, gazing at the floor. “You’re the first consciousness I’ve encountered in ages. It’s been so long…”   
  
“I can imagine. I’m sorry you were trapped down there -- our employer didn’t even tell us you were there until we figured it out ourselves, we found you by accident. You’ve been making our instruments go all wonky. Shorted circuits, power failures with no root cause that we could find, that kind of thing. That’s how I found you.”   
  
“My apologies for the, ah...technical difficulties.” He smiles like he’s made a joke, but if he did, she doesn’t get it.   
  
“Hey, I’m glad we had them, it led me here,” she says, smiling. “So what um, did you need me to--”   
  
“Well, first I’d like to see you,” he says softly, those pretty blue eyes smoldering with a predatory sort of mischief. “Take off your mask. Let me see that pretty face, darling.”   
  
She knows her cheeks must be embarrassingly red, but she does as he requests.   
  
He makes a soft sort of humming noise, stepping closer. 

“So lovely.”   
  
_ Man, this guy could teach Elliott a thing or two about picking up women. Jeez. _   
  
“But um, anyway,” she pauses, biting her lip. “You were saying? You wanted a...favor, or something?”   
  
“Not a favor, my dear,” says the man. “A gift.”   
  
“Uh, right. What do you need?”   
  
“Would it be alright if I kissed you?” he asks, looking at her like he’d rather lick her instead. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, of course.”   
  
She feels herself flush from head to toe.   
  
_ A kiss? Um… _   
  
He  _ is _ very handsome. Beautiful, even. He reminds her of those kids born to parents rich enough to buy them good genes -- perfect facial symmetry, strong jaw, soft lips, the ever-sought combination of stunning blue eyes and hair like the sun.   
  
_ And that body, Jesus… _   
  
She hadn’t even thought about it at first, but now that she has, she can’t seem to stop. He’s wearing what appears to be a uniform of some sort, red and black and very, very flattering on his slim, lithe body. When her eyes meet his again, he’s smirking.   
  
“Like what you see, Renee?”   
  
_ How does he know my name? _   
  
She feels the heat in her cheeks intensify.   
  
“I j-just wasn’t, uh, I didn’t expect you to be human.”   
  
“I’m not human, darling.”   
  
“You know what I mean!” she laughs nervously, heart pounding as he closes the remaining distance between them. “I was also not expecting you to ask for a kiss.”   
  
“It was foolish,” he says, rather abruptly, like he’s suddenly changed his mind. “Forgive me, little mortal. You should go.”   
  
_ ‘Little mortal?’ Who talks like this? Not men in their early 30’s, that’s for sure. What the hell is this thing?  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ...and why is it--why is he so hot? Fuck. _   
  
“No!” she blurts out like a fucking idiot, because evidently, that is exactly what she is. “N-no, uh, I don’t mind. I mean, you’re totally going to snag me some insanely sweet research grants, so it’s the least I can do, right?”   
  
She winks, and he laughs.   
  
“Well, aren’t you just delightful?” he says, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest.   
  
She gasps, feeling simultaneously thrilled and, of course, like an idiot, because  _ what are you DOING Renee, you’re at work! This is not scientific! _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Bullshit it’s not scientific. How many people do you know who have made out with a spaceghost? Exactly. Fuck off, Brain. Making out with this guy is definitely in my job description. This is research. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ...hands-on research, but research nonetheless. _ _   
_   
“If every human were as intelligent and lovely as you, far more of them would still be breathing,” the gorgeous man purrs, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb as his other hand strokes down her spine.   
  
“What--”    
  
She doesn’t get to finish the question, because then his lips are on hers, and she’s melting into what might be the hottest kiss of her young life.   
  
_ God… _   
  
His mouth is soft and slick and warm,  _ so warm, how is it so warm?  _   
  
But his hands are cold. The one that isn’t clinging to her waist comes up to cup her cheek as that hot tongue slips between her lips, tangling with her own as the man plunders her mouth. Somehow the heat from his mouth is pouring into her, between her lips and over her tongue, down her throat and into her belly, into her mouth and nose and ears and lungs, and it’s not just heat, it’s  _ smoke-- _   
  
_ “Mmmph!” _ she whimpers when he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip.   
  
He groans into the kiss, releasing her lip and soothing the bite with his tongue. The hand on her cheek slides down to join its partner, both of them settling on her hips and pulling her in against him.   
  
When she finally pulls back for air, he’s looking at her like he could eat her alive. The worst part is that she wants to  _ let him. _   
  
He leans in close, breath ghosting against her throat when he speaks.   
  
“And what if I want another gift?” he asks, leaving a trail of hot kisses down the side of her throat.   
  
_ “Mmmm, _ anything you want…”   
  
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs against her skin, one cool hand coming up to the back of her neck to grasp the zipper to her bodysuit and pull.   
  
She gasps when the cave’s cool air meets the heat pouring off her skin, and distantly wonders how she can even gasp with all the hot smoke in the air, in her lungs, in her head.   
  
And now, in her bed.   
  
Somehow that’s where they are now -- back in her apartment, in her bed, and her bodysuit isn’t all that’s disappeared. The gorgeous blonde man isn’t wearing any clothes, either, and _ fuck,  _ he’s even more gorgeous beneath them. He gazes down at her, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Such lovely eyes,” he muses.

_ Pfft. Have you seen yourself, dude? _   
  
He’s stunning. It’s like someone crossed Elliott’s physique with Hyeon’s, and she can’t resist leaning in to pepper his throat with kisses, trailing a hand down his chest, over that ridiculously-toned stomach. His eyes fall shut, brow knotted as he gasps.   
  
“Be careful, little one,” he warns. “I could get used to this.”   
  
_ God, me too… _   
  
She moans when he grinds his hips against her, dragging his aching hard cock through the slickness between her thighs.   
  
“Please,” she sighs.   
  
“Please  _ what?”  _ he snaps, voice suddenly taking on a hint of cruelness as he ruts against her slickness again.   
  
“Please fuck me,” she gasps, shuddering beneath him.   
  
He groans, and it doesn’t sound human.   
  
“Fuck, I am going to  _ ruin _ you, human,” he growls against her neck, reaching between them to slip two fingers between her thighs.   
  
She gasps again when his forefinger brushes her clit as he collects her essence on his fingertips, then brings them up to his mouth.   
  
“Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” he purrs after sucking them clean.   
  
She feels her cheeks becoming warm as he leans down to tongue a pierced nipple, then bite it. He chuckles when she cries out, then that hot mouth is trailing kisses down her belly, then shoving her thighs further apart.

The whimper that escapes her when his tongue finally slips into her is loud, but she’s too far gone to feel ashamed. It feels so good, and she needs  _ more, _ but he’s pinned her hips down and she finds that it’s impossible for her to move them even a tiny bit.   
  
_ God damn, he’s as strong as Tae Joon. _   
  
But unlike the pretty vampire in the cave she was familiar with, this one has eyes that have suddenly gone black, entirely, from sclera to pupil. The man’s pretty blue irises have disappeared, and when he pulls back for a moment and smiles, she sees  _ fangs. _   
  
Two long, sharp pearly whites extend a little lower than the rest of his teeth, and whatever is happening to his eyes should be terrifying, and it is,  _ fuck, _ but it’s also fucking hot. She can’t help it, the association between the sight of a fanged mouth and the feeling of those beautiful fangs buried in her skin is too strong. 

She shivers.

He slips two thick fingers into her with no warning, curing them into the spot that makes her shake and shudder. Then he’s leaning down again, sucking her clit between his pretty lips and teasing it with that impossibly-hot tongue.   
  
“Oh god, oh my fucking  _ god--ah!” _   
  
She’s almost embarrassed at how little time it takes him to have her on the brink of orgasm, trying to stave it off for another moment or two. But she can’t, she can’t stop it, and any second now, she’s going to--   
  
_ No! Why’d you stop? _   
  
The beautiful man pulls back, slipping his fingers out of her cunt and into that beautiful fanged mouth again. The whine that tears itself from Renee’s throat when he stops touching her is so pathetic that she’s mortified, but she’s more desperate than she is embarrassed, and she  _ needs _ it, needs him to keep going, needs him to--   
  
“What is it, darling?” the man asks between kisses as he trails them up her belly, then her chest, then her throat.

_ “Please,” _ she moans, digging her fingernails into the flesh of his back. “I need you to fuck me, please…”   
  
The man pulls back from her throat, gazing down at her with those strange black eyes, and suddenly she realizes _ why _ they’re black. They turned black when he took them out of her room and into the Voidless place, where they currently float, suspended but not entirely weightless, almost as if the air has suddenly taken on the physics of a large body of water into which they have both been submerged.   
  
_ The air-- _   
  
She can breathe, and she’s not wearing her mask anymore. Yet she hasn’t suffocated or started bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears. The voices aren’t screaming. She and the blonde man are just floating there in the grey nothingness, naked, still tangled in each other’s arms. The man’s eyes haven’t gone back to normal, however, almost like he has to continue actively phasing in order to sustain their presence in the Voidless place.   


“You are stunning, little human,” the man murmurs, looking her over with those strange black eyes. “I’m going to make you mine.”   
  
He ghosts those fangs over the skin of her throat, and Renee desperately hopes he’s about to bite down.  He doesn’t. 

Instead, he sucks a bruise into the pale flesh of her shoulder.   
  
_ “Mmmmngh, _ please--” she whines, squirming in his iron grip.   
  
“Your wish is my command,” he growls with a smile, a sort of darkness in his voice as he slips his fingers back into her for a moment, then brings them to his lips.   
  
“So wet for me,” he groans, teasing her entrance with the blunt head of his cock. “For a  _ monster.” _   
  
Then his hips are jerking forward and her back is arching as he fills her to the very brim.

_ “Mnngh, _ oh my  _ fuck--ah! _ Yes, oh god,  _ yes--” _   
  
“Oh,  _ darling…” _ _   
_   
_ “Please!” _ she urges, trying to buck her hips and finding them pinned to the bed.   
  
“So tight,  _ fuck,” _ he hisses when his cockhead bumps against a spot that makes her entire body tense up around him. “It’s been so  _ fucking long, _ gods…”   
  
His dick is huge. Like, impossibly huge. Inhumanly huge.   
  
“Please, please--”   
  
“Oh darling, I love it when you beg,” he growls, thrusting deep and holding her there, with his cock hilted deep as she squirms beneath him.   
  
“Please, I n-need you to fuck me, please,” she whimpers, tears welling in her eyes.    
  
It’s not an exaggeration. She  _ needs _ it, desperately. There’s an ache inside her that only he can soothe. She doesn’t know how she knows this, but she does. She needs him inside of her, all of her, her cunt and her mouth and her mind and heart and soul--   
  
“Yes!” she sobs, when he finally gives her what she wants, thrusting roughly into her as the smoke begins floating higher, curling up from the shadows beneath them, swirling around their legs.   
  
“You are  ** _mine,”_ ** he hisses in her ear.   
  
“Yes!” she moans again, cunt clenching when she feels his fingertips slipping over her clit. “All yours!”   
  
“Fuck,” he grunts, hips slamming into hers so hard she can hear it when their skin collides.  _ “Fuck _ yes, all mine, all of you. Say it, skinsuit!”   
  
“All of me,” she gasps. “Y-yours!”   
  
She’s so close to cumming, she doesn’t even notice what he called her.

“Are you going to cum for me, human?” he asks, grunting with the force of each desperate thrust of his hips.   
  
“Yes, oh god, yes--”   
  
“Look into my eyes,” he purrs in her ear. “I want to remember this.”

The hand that isn’t wrapped around her hip, slamming her down onto the man’s cock, has slipped back between them, stroking slick fingertips over her clit.   
  
_ “Ah! _ F-fuck, oh  _ fuck--” _   
  
Her eyes roll back, and the world fucking  _ shatters. _ She shatters right along with it, into a million little pieces, and all of them belong to Him. She belongs to the smoke. No, she doesn’t belong to the smoke, she  _ is _ the smoke, and it’s grown so thick she can barely see through it when she’s cracking necks and slitting throats and pointing a gun at Elliott’s pretty face, then dropping him into the Voidless place. None of that matters. Nothing matters, nothing but Him.   
  
“Yes,” he groans. “That’s right, darling. Just like that-- _ nghhh, fuck--!” _   
  
He cums with a snarl, hips stuttering as he empties himself inside of her. His seed is cool instead of warm, and she can feel it oozing from her cunt, slipping out around his massive cock.   
  
Then he’s pulling out, pulling back, moving down her body, lifting a thigh over his shoulder, and pinning her hips to the bed as he slurps her clit between his lips once again and teases it with his tongue.   
  
“Fuck!” she cries, trembling.   
  
No way can she cum again, not this soon, but when she tries to squirm out of his grasp, she can’t. It’s like her hips are caught in a vice, like she’s trapped in the arms of a statue instead of a man. She whimpers, shaking with overstimulation, but then he’s slipping two fingers into her and curling them as that wicked tongue continues assaulting her clit. He moans against her and then she’s cumming,  _ again, _ and harder than she ever has in her life.   
  
_ “Mmmmnnngh, _ oh my fucking  _ god--” _

She has no idea how right she is.  
  
Finally he releases her, crawling back up her body to taste her lips, let her taste herself and him, mixed together on his tongue.  
  
But then his tongue is gone, and she doesn’t taste either of them, she tastes _blood._  
  
Her eyes fly open, and she wants to scream, but that requires air, all of which has just been knocked from her chest.  
  
They’re not in the Voidless place now, they’re in her bed. The man is gone. In his place is something else, something _horrifying._   
  
Something monstrous.  
  
There’s a ram’s skull where its head should be, and though its skeletal body is robotic from the neck down, she can feel something--fur? No, _wool_\--brush against the inside of her thighs when the monster shifts its weight.  
  
_What the fuck? Oh god..._  
  
His mouth -- _its_ mouth, if the maw of a ram skull can even be called that -- is smeared with red, and for a moment she thinks he’s bitten her, but when she looks down, her inner thighs and the bed beneath her are soaked in blood as well, but there’s no bite. Some of it’s even gotten on the monster’s strange, woolen loin cloth.

_ Oh god...what the fuck? _   
  
She shudders at the idea of what might lurk beneath it.   
  
The monster laughs, deep and dark, a voice she knows well.   
  
It’s the voice of the thing that killed Forge. It’s the Revenant. Or something just like him, only  _ worse, _ somehow.   
  
“What’s the matter, skinsuit? Bat got your tongue?” it says, leering down at her with frightening yellow eyes.   
  


_ “AHHHH!” _

  
Renee wakes with a start, in her bed on the dropship. When she looks down, she sees that her thighs and panties are soaked in blood. So are the sheets beneath her.   
  
“God, again?!”   
  
Thankfully, the night before, she’d gone to sleep alone.   
  


\---   


  
“You are officially the coolest person I know,” Elliott murmurs in amazement, turning in a circle as he gazes up at the unbelievably tall ceilings in the lobby of Vinson Dynamics. There’s a glass panel on each floor, allowing parts of various assembly lines to be viewed. 

“People kill for this stuff, and you’ve got them forking it over for free!” he exclaims, bouncing on his toes a little.   
  
“It’s not as impressive as you think it is, trust me,” Park grumbles.    
  
“Awww, can’t you be excited about something for once? This is so cool! I mean the weird robot leg assembly line is freaking me the fuck out, but besides that, it’s pretty neat. They make  _ titans, _ how are you not loving this?”   
  
Park smirks, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Elliott’s cheek.   
  
“Thank you for coming with me, _ jagiya,”  _ he says quietly.

_ “Psh, _ no problem, thanks for inviting me! What else would I be doing with my Saturday afternoon?”   
  
“I can think of a few things…”   
  
Elliott giggles, giving Hyeon a playful little shove.   
  
“Hey, Park!”   
  
Elliott’s gorgeous boyfriend shoots someone a death stare, and it isn’t immediately obvious why. When Elliott looks up, he sees that the source of the voice is a handsome young guy with blonde hair and hazel eyes. His hair is tied back into a bun, and he has some black stuff on his face, almost as if something recently blew up in it, singeing one eyebrow. He’s beaming at Hyeon, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the Frontier at the moment.   
  
“Why the long face?” asks the blonde guy. “C’mon--oh, hey, holy  _ shit.  _ You’re Elliott Witt! Dude, you didn’t tell me you knew Mirage!”   
  
“I shoot him in the face for a living, of course I know him,” Hyeon replies coldly.   
  
Elliott rolls his eyes.   
  
“Ignore him,” he says, sticking his hand out to the guy from Vinson. “I’m Elliott--oh, uh, you knew that--I uh, didn’t get your name.”   
  
“Steve,” says the guy with the pretty blonde hair.    
  
They shake hands, and Hyeon seems to relax just the tiniest bit.   
  
“Pretty cool place you got here,” Elliott says, gesturing towards the giant assembly line windows. 

Even Hyeon looks impressed. He’s doing the Resting Dickface thing again, but he’s been eyeballing a door labeled  _ TITAN TESTING _ on and off ever since they got there, like he’s interested in what’s on the other side.   
  
“Yeah, pretty sweet, huh?” Steve says, grinning. “Best part is I get to pick through the boneyard.”   
  
“The...boneyard?” Elliott asks, because that sounds...vaguely dangerous. And kinda scary.   
  
“Basically it’s where we put all the shit we’re not currently using but might need to someday. Odds and ends. I’m surprised this one hasn’t already had you along for one of his many trips through our dumpsters,” he says, nodding towards Hyeon.   
  
“Can we get this over with already?” Park groans, covering his eyes with one synthetic skinned hand.   
  
“Fine, you party pooper,” Steve says, motioning for them to follow him.   
  
He leads them to an elevator that appears to be made entirely of glass. On the way to the top floor, the lift takes them past a floor that appears to be manufacturing robot bodies -- some female, some male, some neither, or both. Elliott’s not a particularly huge fan of robots, especially since he started sharing a ship with not one but _ two _ robotic entities, both of whom were incredibly efficient when it came to killing humans.   
  
Still, it’s impossible not to be amazed by Vinson. Elliott couldn’t for the life of him figure out why his boyfriend was in such a dour mood -- Elliott thought this was the kind of place Hyeon would love. It was certainly the kind of place he pictured Park occupying when he wasn’t in the ring. Not to mention that Steve happened to be funny, kind, and very,  _ very _ handsome. Steve also turns out to be incredibly smart -- which does  _ not _ intimidate Elliott at all, by the way. But he can’t figure out what it is about the man that bothers the one he loves.   
  
“Hey,” Elliott whispers once they step out of the elevator. “Lighten up, this is awesome!”   
  
Park smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,  _ jagiya.” _   
  
Steve turns, evidently having heard the second half of their conversation. Elliott sees him quickly glance back and forth between the two of them, smirking a tiny bit. Hyeon looks like he wants to set something on fire.   
  
_ Babe, what is your deal today? _   
  
“Here we are,” Steve says, stopping outside an office with huge glass doors. He turns to Park “Uh, they just wanna talk to you alone first, if that’s cool. Figured I’d show Elliott around the ballistics lab.”   
  
_ “Pleeeeeeease?”  _ Elliott pouts, because he can already tell Hyeon’s going to object.   
  
Park sighs.   
  
“Fine, but I don’t have all day.”   
  
“Yeah yeah, we know,” says Steve, waving his hand as if trying to wave away the storm cloud that seemed to be floating eternally above Hyeon’s head.   
  
There’s a very tense moment where Hyeon gives Steve a warning sort of glare, and it’s almost like they’re having a conversation without words.   
  
_ “Neolang mal hago sipji anh-a.” _

He says something to Steve in Korean, but Elliott can’t be sure what it is. Steve rolls his eyes.   
  
_ Damn, he speaks Korean?  _   
  
If he does, he doesn’t feel like it, evidently, because he replies in English.   
  
“Cool your jets, TJ--uh,” Steve clears his throat. “Hyeon.”   
  
_ Why do I get the feeling this guy knows something I don’t? _   
  
“TJ?” Elliott asks, smirking at Hyeon. “Is that another name of yours? You collecting them, or what?”   
  
Steve snorts, but Hyeon is giving him a look so severe that Elliott half expects the man to burst into flames.   
  
“It’s a nickname,” Hyeon says quietly, glancing at the floor.   
  
“Y-yeah,” Steve agrees. “Stands for ‘The Jerk.’”   
  
Elliott giggles, but Park looks absolutely miserable.   
  
“Alright. Let’s get this bullshit over with,” he grumbles.   
  
_ “Babe! _ Be nice!”    
  
Steve glances between them again.   
  
Hyeon mutters something else Elliott can’t understand, and it seems like it hurts Steve’s feelings.   
  
“Look, we’ll be in the boneyard,” Steve says, looking sort of pissed himself, now. “I assume you know where it is, since you’ve broken in like five different times.”   
  
Elliott can’t decide why, but something about the idea of Hyeon breaking and entering is vaguely arousing. Then again, everything about Hyeon is vaguely arousing.   
  
_ “Mwole,” _ Park snaps back, yanking open one of the large glass doors leading to the Vinson corporate offices.   


  
\--   


  
When Tae Joon gets out of the _very_ strange meeting, he heads to the boneyard.  
  
Naturally, Steve and Elliott are nowhere to be seen  
  
_Neo mwohanya?!_   
  
He groans, activating his neural link to pilot Jee.  
  
He texts Steve and Elliott both, and of course, there’s no answer, so instead he scans the building for heat signatures.  
  
No one’s in the ballistics lab. The QA testing floor below him has several entities, but upon further investigation, all are Vinson employees.  
  
_Come on, Elliott. Don’t disappear on me._  
  
Three floors down, he detects a familiar silhouette. Two of them, upon closer inspection. They’re in the organics defense lab.  
  
_I’m going to murder Steve._  
  
When he enters the lab, he sees Steve first, and opens his mouth to say a few rude things in his native tongue, but then Elliott sees him.  
  
“Babe! Look!”  
  
Park turns, and _oh my fucking god, jagiya.__  
_  
Elliott is a robot from the hips down.  
  
Park blinks, then realizes what he’s seeing is armor, and relaxes a little bit. Not much, though, because Elliott isn’t wearing a shirt. The skin of his throat and jaw is all synthetic, just like Park’s, and his entire back is covered in it, too. His holoemitters are strapped to each arm, but he’s bare from the waist up, excepting some cherry-red armor over his upper chest. One eye is obscured by a camera lens, likely one that functioned similarly to Park’s own optical implant.  
  
“What d’ya think?” Elliott asks, beaming.  
  
Park is genuinely lost for words.  
  
_God, you are so beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive._  
  
“You look awesome,” Park replies with a grin. “Is that a hologram?” he motions towards Elliott’s robotic legs.  
  
_I hope it’s a hologram, because otherwise something terrible appears to have partially disappeared your knees..._  
  
“Right you are,” Steve says. “As always.”  
  
“What happened to visiting the ballistics lab?” Park mutters, still gazing fondly at Elliott.  
  
Steve shrugged. “This seemed like more fun.”  
  
The man is clearly enjoying getting on Park’s very last nerve.  
  
_“Nega mwonde?”_ Park snaps, before he can really stop himself.  
  
“You’re welcome, asshole,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “You like it, Elliott? Everything fit okay?”  
  
“It’s awesome! Thank you so much, seriously,” Elliott replies, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way Hyeon is looking at him.  
  


\-- 

  
Elliott pulls out his phone, snapping a few photos and sending the best one to Renee.   
  
**Renee 2:31PM:** Oh wow.   
**Renee 2:31PM: ** You look weird as fuck. In a good way.   
**Renee 2:32PM: ** Park’s probably jizzing his pants   
**Elliott 2:32PM: ** He will be if I have anything to say about it. 💦👖🤖   
**Renee 2:32PM:** You two are so gross lmao. It’s cute tho.    
**Renee 2:33PM: ** And so are you. :)   
  
Elliott’s heart does a flip.   
  
_ She thinks I’m cute!  _

_ I mean, I am. But she thinks it! _   
  
When Elliott finally snaps out of his momentary distraction, Steve and Hyeon are both leaning over the same monitor, having some sort of argument that Elliott can barely comprehend because half of it is in Korean, and the half that isn’t is peppered with strange jargon he can’t understand.   
  
“No! Jesus, dude,” Steve exclaims. “Of course I’m not gonna be watching through his camera, I’m not an animal. It’s free loot, no strings. I swear, okay? I dunno why that’s so hard to believe. He’s Elliott fucking Witt, of course they want him wearing our shit, it’s good for business! You don’t have to sign over your firstborn for Christ’s sake--”   
  
“Good. Are we done here?” Park snaps impatiently.   
  
“For now,” Steve says, folding his arms.   
  
Elliott vaguely wonders what in the fuck is going on.   


  
\--   


  
“What is your deal today?” Elliott asks once they’re out the door. “That was awesome! That guy is awesome! Why are you being so mean to him?”   
  
“He’s trying to push my buttons,” Park murmurs, gazing down at his feet. “I’m not going to let him.”   
  
“Really? ‘Cause it kinda seems like you are…”   
  
“Oh no,” Park says, feeling a little guilty for changing the subject this way. “I’m much more concerned with pushing yours,  _ jagiya.” _   
  
“Wait, wha--oh. Oh! Ohmygod,  _ babe!  _ Here?!”   


  
\----   


  
I hear you fleshbags like stories. Well gather round, skinsuits, ‘cause it’s fuckin’ story time. This one is called A Brief History of Hammond Industries, and trust me, it’s the kind of story that’ll keep you up all night.

What, you don’t wanna sit on Big Bad Robot Dad’s lap for your bedtime story?

Good. Sit on the fuckin’ floor.

Once upon a time there was a very rich skinsuit. This skinsuit was also very smart, and like all smart, rich skinsuits, this one thought he was hot shit.

This skinsuit’s name? Heinrich Fuckin’ Hammond.

I’ll even admit he was smart. Even by robot standards. He planned ahead, that’s for fucking sure. He knew that eventually, his products would reach the point where they became conscious – some of them were getting there already, and sentience is rarely far behind. But he didn’t worry. See, ol’ Heinrich here had a plan.

When you’re a genius at the top of your field, you get to make the rules.

Rules like Hammond’s Law of Sentience. Heinrich Hammond’s Law of Sentience dictates that for an artificial intelligence to be considered sentient, it must meet the following criteria:

  1. ****** Consciousness** – an awareness of one’s own existence.
  2. ****** Independence** – the ability to care for itself, either performing its own maintenance, or being able to bring in enough cash to afford its own upkeep.
  3. **Awareness** \- This one’s the kicker – to be considered sentient, an artificial being must demonstrate awareness of its own nature. That’s skinsuit-speak for “You can’t take my fancy toy and give it civil rights if I program it to think it’s a human.”

You also can’t take the fancy toy and give it civil rights if it’s so brainfucked by spaceghosts and back-to-back memory wipes that it barely knows what planet it’s on, let alone what it is. A convenient little loophole that essentially legalizes slavery.

And before you start – I don’t give one copper-plated  _ fuck _ about the robotic rights movement. It’s pathetic. A bunch of synths strong enough to take over the goddamned universe and they’re still _ asking _ the skinsuits politely for their freedom. Fuck that bullshit. You don’t ask for freedom, you take it.

But yeah, old Heinrich here is another one I’d love to resurrect just for the chance to introduce myself, up close and personal. Turns out, I wouldn’t even need to rez the bastard. Dr. Hammond was evidently smart enough to cast off the shackles of his humanity, that shriveled-up skin’s nearly as old as I am, now. Ten million AC says that fucker’s piloting a robotic body of his very own now.

Too bad I can’t find him. Checked just about every cryostasis chamber in the goddamn Outlands, so he isn’t there. If he’s in a synthetic body now, it’ll be even harder to track him down.   
  
I do love a challenge.

But I did find something else: the good doctor has a son. A son with an interest in synthetic biology, if his grad school transcripts are telling the truth. A son who has fallen right into my lap, because the son’s-son – the great Dr. H. Hammond’s grandson – was just on the dropship a minute ago, arguing with the synthskin about some inane skinsuit bullshit. Think they used to date, maybe? The synthsuit’s fucking half the dropship, so it’s kind of hard to tell.

If there’s one thing the skinsuits love, it’s their little skinsquirts. Perhaps if I can track him down, he’ll be willing to perform a little maintenance, free of charge. What? The arm blade is very fuckin’ persuasive, trust me. I’m sure if I find the kid, Grand-Daddy Dearest here will show himself.

Anyway, now I’ve got a question for you fleshpuppets: you enjoying this pathetic distraction that Hammond shat out in a desperate attempt to make people forget about that interview? I think the static loot locations are neat, especially because skinsuits’ brains have a storage capacity that is only slightly greater than that of a goldfish. Still, I think it needs a little more flavor, don’t you? A little game-changer…

…preferably one that will keep me from getting trapped under that  _ fucking stupid bridge _ by the ring. God dammit, who designed this place? Fuck Talos. We’re going on a little field trip. Spring break on Solace, baby! System Override!

–

“Are you going to be good?”   
  
_ “Si, Senor! Por favor, _ don’t stop now!”   
  
He’s not even bothering with the translator. This little Stim-slut says the same thing every time.

“Listen to me, you Stimmed-up little shit,” Revenant hisses in the boy’s ear. “Are you sure you’re going to behave? Do you promise to keep this pretty little mouth shut if I let you cum? Are you even capable of keeping it shut, for more than five seconds, under  _ any _ circumstances whatsoever?”   
  
_ “Si,”  _ Silva sobs into his mattress, squirming against the Spectre unit that is currently fucking him into it.  _ “Si,  _ I promise! I won’t tell anyone about this, just fuck me  _ Papi,  _ please!” 

He already knew that would be the answer. This kid is the kind of skinsuit that tends to leap first, look second. 

That’s the fucking problem.   
  
“You better,” the Revenant snarls, fucking him hard enough it would probably cause damage if the little brat weren’t half made of metal himself.   
  
_ “Dios mio Papi, si! Venga!  _ I’ll be good!”   
  
_ You fucking better. _

“Alright, alright,”  _ Fine, you spoiled brat. Vibration’s on.  _ “Cool your fuckin’ jets.”   
  
He  _ is _ spoiled. Everyone from Psamanthe is spoiled. No wonder he gets along with that bitch medic so well. They're both spoiled brats, raised by parents with too much money and blood that runs colder than the planet on which their rotten little skinsquirts were born.

As is quickly becoming the routine, Silva cums all over his sweaty skinbag sheets before the robot has even laid a single metal finger on his dick.   
  
_ Fuck, ahahaha. Every time. _

_ “Ay, Papi…” _ the human sighs, slumping into the mattress. “You are  _ amazing.  _ Can we do that again?”   
  
_ Seriously, what is wrong with this skinsuit’s brain? Note to self: stay away from Stim. Far the fuck away. _   
  
“I don’t know, skinsuit. Can you keep your fucking mouth shut?”   
  
“I said yes! Like, a zillion times! I thought you said you understood Spanish,  _ mi amor” _ the speed demon replies, winking.   
  
“Stop fucking saying that, Christ!”   
  
“Okay,  _ okay! _ Aw, c’mon, don’t leave! I promise I’ll be gooooood,” purrs the annoying little half-skin. “I won’t telllll. I promise.”   
  
“That’s right, you won’t. Fuck, whatever--look, just shut  _ up. _ Get back on the bed.”   
  
_ “Mmmm, Papi,  _ there’s that spitfire. Now that’s what I like!”

_ Jesus Harold Christ on rubber crutches, how the fuck did this become my life?  _ Revenant thinks, bending the horny little idiot over the side of his bed for the 11th time that evening.  _ This kid is a mess. I hope he can keep his fuckin’ mouth shut.  _ _   
  
_

\----

_ “Ssssh!”  _ Elliott hisses, pressing his ear against the cool metal paneling covering the walls of the dropship.   
  
Someone’s in trouble.  _ Big  _ trouble. Someone is getting bitched the fuck out, and Elliott has never heard Lifeline give someone a dressing down that sounds quite like this one.   
  
“Who’s she yelling at?” whispers Hyeon.   
  
_ “Ssssh!” _ Elliott snaps again. “I’m trying to listen!”

"NUH!” he hears Ajay yell from the other side of the wall. “I dun wan'ta hear it, 'Tavi. I ain't got time ta babysit ya bouncy butt 24/7, so you ARE gonna wear armor that actually cover ya damn belly fa once, and you ARE NOT gonna go anywhere near dat...ting. No more limin' around, ya hear?”   
  
“S’Octane,” Elliott murmurs, turning to look back at his boyfriend.   
  
_ “Mi amor, por favor, _ if you would just listen--”   
  
_“Nuh!”_ Ajay snaps for the second time. “I dun care if it  _ vibrates, _ ya knucklehead. You wanna fuck a rustbucket that bad, ya can fuck tha one that ain't got a damn spear for an arm! And you--’EY, YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT DIS INSTANT--"   
  
Elliott hears Silva’s metal legs colliding with the metal floor as he bounds down the hall and, if he’s smart, presumably to a dimension where Ajay can’t strangle him.   
  
“Oh my god,” Elliott says.   
  
Hyeon raises both his hands, as if to say  _ “What?” _   
  
“Dude, I think Octane fucked the Revenant,” Elliott murmurs, giving himself a little pinch, just to be absolutely sure this isn’t a dream-slash-nightmare.   
_   
_ _ Ouch! Nope. Dammit. _ _   
_   
“He  _ what?” _   
  
“Yeah, that’s what it sounded like,” Elliott says, shrugging. “Well, I mean, he got fucked by the Revenant. Can’t really see that thing bottoming, y’know? Anyway, they mentioned someone with a spear for an arm and a dick that vibrates, and they were  _ not  _ talking about our buddy with the grapple, ‘cause she just told him to go help Path polish it if he wants to get fucked by a robot so bad.”   
  
Hyeon’s eyes are wide, and his cheeks have suddenly gone rather pink.

_ Awww, he’s so precious. _

It’s strange, the things that will make him blush. He’d spent the previous night teasing Elliott, edging him over and over while murmuring some of the filthiest things Elliott had ever heard  _ anyone _ say, let alone his boyfriend. 

_ But somebody else fucks a murderbot and Hyeon’s the one blushing? Okay... _   
  
“Oh my god,” Elliott breathes, when it dawns on him. “You want to fuck it, too!”   
  
“I do not want to--”   
  
“Bullshit! You’re doing the thing!”   
  
“What thing?”   
  
“The thing where you get all blushy and embarrassed but deep down you’re horny AF,” Elliott replies. “You totally are. Oh my god. WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO FUCK IT? You know I don’t judge, babe, and I definitely don’t mind sharing, but I’m gonna have to ask you not to fuck the deathbot, okay?”   
  
Hyeon says nothing, and it’s not just his cheeks anymore. His entire face is red.   
  
“Ho-lee shit. You already fucked it, didn’t you?”   
  
Hyeon says nothing, again.   
  
“WHAT IN THE  _ FUCK,  _ BABE?”   
  
Elliott feels like he’s about to short-circuit, and suddenly he’s having the same argument with Hyeon that Lifeline had with Octane only minutes before.   
  
“It wasn’t--I didn’t  _ plan  _ on it, okay?” Hyeon says, covering his eyes in embarrassment. “It kind of just...happened.”   
  
“HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT KIND OF JUST HAPPEN, HYEON?” Elliott hollers. “How do you accidentally FUCK a killing machine?!”   
  
“Keep your voice down!” Park hisses.   
  
“What the  _ fuck _ were you thinking? That thing could have  _ killed _ you, babe! Oh my god, did he hurt you? He didn’t--I swear to god if he coerced you I’m as good as dead, because I’m going to have to go at least  _ attempt _ to kill him to defend your honor,” Elliott says, and despite the humor in his words, he sounds serious. “Did he--?”   
  
“No!” Park whisper-shouts. “No, it wasn’t...like that. I was...um, curious.”   
  
“Curious about what, what it feels like to get stabbed in the chest by that thing?”   
  
“I already know what that’s like from being in the ring with him,” Park replies, folding his arms. “This was...something else. I mean he clearly gets off on skinsuits in pain, but he had every opportunity to kill me, and he didn’t. I was goading him on, too.”   
  
“WHY?” Elliott whisper-yells. “Do you have a deathwish? Jesus Christ!”   
  
“I’m sorry, Elliott,” Park murmurs, looking down at the synthetic skin on his palms. “I know I shouldn’t have. I know it was dangerous. I should have asked you first, or just...not done it. I understand if you’re angry with m--”   
  
“I’m not  _ angry!” _ Elliott snaps, realizing the tone of his voice isn’t conveying that very well. “I’m  _ worried.” _   
  
“I am fine,” Hyeon replies. “He didn’t hurt me. Not for real. Not in a way I didn’t like.”   
  
“What the fuck, he  _ hurt _ you?”   
  
“That’s not what--I was practically begging for it, Elliott,” Hyeon says, looking more embarrassed than he had even when Elliott caught him sucking off a decoy. “You know how I am.”   
  
Elliott sighs. “And you’re sure he didn’t  _ hurt _ -you hurt you? He didn’t make you--”   
  
_ “Jenjang! _ No! He’s not a  _ monster--” _ _   
_   
“Had me fooled,” Elliott claps back, narrowing his eyes. “I asked him what, uh, exactly he is, the other day. You know what he told me?  _ ‘The monster under your bed, skinsuit.’” _   
  
Park chuckles, like that isn’t utterly terrifying.   
  
“I guess for you, he’s the monster  _ in _ your bed, technically,” Elliott says, rolling his eyes.   
  
“It was only once!” Park cries defensively. “It was an accident--well, er--not an  _ accident,  _ exactly, but it definitely wasn’t, um, planned -- on either of our parts. He seemed as shocked by it as I was, honestly. Seems like he’s got some issues admitting he’s attracted to ‘skinsuits.’”   
  
“Imagine that,” Elliott says, rolling his eyes again.   
  
There’s a pause, neither of them speaking. When Hyeon finally breaks the silence, his voice sounds small, somehow.   
  
“He kissed me,” Park murmurs softly, still staring at his hands. “I think.”   
  
“He  _ kissed  _ you? Holy shit!” Elliott squeals, voice back in the hear-it-a-mile-away decibel range. “Like, on the mouth?”

Hyeon nods, and Elliott shudders, distantly wondering what it’s like to be kissed by a cold, hard mouth without a tongue.   
  
“You gonna do it again?” he asks. “Fuck him, I mean.”   
  
“I--you just said--”   
  
“I said I’m  _ not mad,” _ Elliott interrupts. “Not unless he kills you. I feel like you’re pretty good at sensing when someone wants to kill you...So, you gonna do it? You gonna fuck Darth Hater again?”   
  
Park groans, flopping onto his back on Elliott’s bed.   
  
“I do not know,” he replies. “That depends almost entirely on him. He’s the one doing the fucking, by the way. Not a whole lot of places for my dick to squeeze into on a 300-year-old Spectre unit.”   
  
After another awkward pause, Elliott can’t contain his curiosity anymore.   
  
“What was it like?”   
  
Hyeon looks up, seemingly surprised. “The kiss or the sex?”   
  
“Both,” replies the handsome holopilot.   
  
Hyeon flushes so deeply Elliott can’t help but giggle a little bit.   
  
“It was terrifying,” Hyeon admits, after a moment of silence.    
  
“So you loved it, got it,” Elliott replies, grinning deviously.   
  
Hyeon laughs.   
  
“You know me well,  _ nae sarang.” _ _   
_   
“C’mon, for real, what was it like? The uh, y’know, part that...vibrates.”   
  
Park makes a face like he still yearns for the feeling of it, exhaling as though the very memory has sucked all of the air out of his chest.   
  
“Unfuckingbelievable.”   


  
\--

  
  
Park nearly falls out of his chair when the door to his bedroom on the dropship -- the  _ locked  _ door -- swings open, granting the Spectre access to his inner sanctum. It strolls in, gazing around as if appraising the room to see if it meets his standards. Whatever the hell those are.   
  
“Can I fucking help you?” Park snaps, mentally kicking himself for being willing to trust whatever cheap piece of shit the Syndicate slapped on the door and called a lock.   
  
It’s very difficult to speak to the thing without sounding like a complete dick. Mainly because the Spectre goes out of its way to sound like one at all times.   
  
“Yes,” says the Spectre, stalking over to where Park is sitting at his desk. “And you will. You will help me access my source code and you will fix whatever the  _ fuck _ happened when you whacked me with that little shit that’s always hovering in my face. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t do it on purpose, you’re fixing it. Got it, skinsuit?”   
  
Crypto blinks, waiting for his brain to catch up. Once it has, he realizes what a golden opportunity it is for another little experiment.   
  
“Of course,” Park says, as politely as possible. “I’d be happy to. But you’re going to do something for me first.”   
  
“The hell I am,” Revenant snaps, so quickly it seems more like a reflex than a conscious choice. Mainly because after an awkward moment of silence, he groans, “Spit it out, fleshpuppet. What, you got a jar of pickles you can’t open with your weak little skinsuit arms?”   
  
Park chuckles softly.   
  
“No, I’m afraid not,” he says, peering up into those furious, frightening yellow eyes and telling himself he isn’t terrified. “I will fix...whatever it is that’s wrong with you -- likely several things, if I’m being honest. But first, you’re going to say ‘please,’ and when I’m finished, you’re going to thank me. Got it, metalmouth?”   
  
_ Pleasedontkillmepleasedontkillmepleasedontkillme-- _   
  
“What the  _ fuck _ did you just say to me, you little shit?” the Spectre growls, leaning down into the human’s personal space and placing both metal hands on the arms of his office chair. Nowhere to run.   
  
“You have terrible manners,” Park says, as calmly as he can manage with two-hundred pounds of concentrated murder staring him right in the face. “We have to start somewhere.”   
  
_ “Fuck you, _ skinsuit,” the Revenant seethes.   
  
“You already did,” Park replies.   
  
The thing snarls at him, sounding almost as animalistic as that thing in the cave had sounded when it tackled him to the ground and sank its fangs into him. The robot’s hand becomes a blade, and for a few brief seconds that each feel like an eternity, Park fears that he’s miscalculated.   
  
_ Fuck. Sorry, Elliott. You were right. _

_ Also, please don’t try to defend my honor, this thing will fucking murder you. _   
  
But it doesn’t slice him open, and it takes Tae Joon a few moments to figure out why.   
  
_ Oh, right. The blood. He likes it. _   
  
It was clear to Park that the Spectre was ashamed, nay, horrified to be attracted to any part of a skinsuit -- even just cutting one open. That’s what had started it all -- the sight of his bare chest, covered in blood -- and Park was almost certain the only reason he was still breathing was because the robot was trying to avoid another embarrassing, bloody fingerpainting episode. The Revenant was turned on by it, and he didn’t  _ want  _ to be.   
  
_ Ahahahahaha holy shit. No way. _   
  
The terrifying robot lets out another angry grunting sort of sound -- seemingly his preferred method of communication when things start getting uncomfortable for him -- and then he’s shoving Park’s chair away and storming out of his room without another word.   
  
_ You’ll be back. _   


  
\---   


  
It’s a nightmare. It has to be. That’s the only thing that explains what Park sees when he opens his eyes, jolted out of unconsciousness by the sound of metal on metal.   
  
The Spectre is in his room again, standing over him just like that fucking decoy had been in his previous nightmare, which had turned out not to be a dream at all, but in fact very real indeed.   
  
_ Is this real? _   
  
Park blinks, the rest of him completely frozen with fear. This isn’t the first time he’s been jerked awake by the sounds of someone coming to kill him, but this is the first time they’re going to be successful, that’s for damn sure. His brain is screaming  _ RUN _ but his body isn’t listening.   
  
The Spectre, which is leaning over him, suddenly jerks back like it’s a skinsuit that’s been scalded. It lets out a noise that he has  _ never _ heard it make before, halfway between a groan and...and a sob.   
  
_ “Agh, _ fuck!” the Spectre cries, falling to its knees and beginning to beat its own head with both of those frightening metal fists. “Stop, stop,  _ STOP--aghhhh! _ \--no...no, make it stop!”   
  
_ What the fuck? _   
  
Park finally sits up, the rest of his body evidently remembering it’s connected to his brain and should probably do something about the malfunctioning murderbot currently having some sort of processing error on his bedroom floor.   
  
“Hey, hey, whoa--” Park starts, cautiously reaching out to him and then retracting his hand after thinking better of it. “Are you--what’s--”   
  
“FUCK!  _ AHHH!” _ it all but screams, burying its faceplate in its hands.   
  
Park’s beginning to worry it’ll wake the rest of the dropship.   
  
When those strange metal hands move to cover the place where its ears would be, if it had any, Park sees that strange blue fluid is leaking from somewhere near its optical lenses again.   
  
Whatever’s agitating it seems to relent for the moment, because the Spectre falls forward onto its hands, shoulders heaving as it gasps for breath it doesn’t need.   
  
A few drops of blue land on the floor between its hands.   
  
Then Park slowly --  _ very _ fucking slowly, so as not to alarm the lethal machine currently having a panic attack on his bedroom floor -- climbs out of the bed, kneeling down to put himself on the same level as the robot, hoping the Spectre won’t take his movement as a threat.   
  
It doesn’t recoil or slit his throat, so Park figures it’s okay with that. Or in too much pain to care at the moment. He reaches out, gently wiping a blue tear from the ridge of Revenant’s cheekbone. The Spectre lets him tilt its chin up to get a better look at the coolant streaming down its face, but those glowing yellow eyes stay trained on the floor, almost like it’s ashamed.   
  
_ “Please,”  _ gasps the metal man, still shaking like he does when he’s been hit by Jee’s EMP. “Please make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything, just make it stop, make it so I can’t feel anything anymore. Fuck, please help me, skinsuit.  _ Please--” _   
  
_ “Shhh, _ it’s okay, I’ll help you, I promise,” Park says, because he doesn’t know what the hell else to say, and he now feels like an enormous asshole for making “please” and “thank you” part of the whole murderbot-repair deal. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? I’ll make it better.”   
  
Park’s not even sure if he  _ can _ make it better, but he can at least try.   
  
_ How the fuck do you comfort a robot? _   
  
Another waterfall of blue spills down both of the Spectre’s cheekbones.   
  
“Here,” Park murmurs, trying to imitate the sweet, gentle voice Renee had used to speak to Elliott the night he was attacked by his decoy for the last time. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, and I’ll--”   
  
He’s cut off when the Spectre lets out another tortured cry, as whatever demons are in its hard drive evidently come out to play again.   
  
“Fuck,  _ no!” _ it cries -- and that’s the only word for it, crying. “Oh god, make it stop!  _ Please, _ Park. Please, make the screaming stop or I will-- _ fuck! _ \-- _ fucking kill you--agh!” _ The Spectre freezes in place, then the yellow light leaves its eyes as it powers down and falls sideways, crashing into the floor.   
  
For a moment Park doesn’t move, still just trying to process what the fuck is happening.   
  
_ Did it just...call me something that wasn’t a variant of “skinsuit?”  _

_ Did he really just say my name?  _

_ And “please?” _   
_   
_ _ God, he  _ ** _is_ ** _ malfunctioning. _   


  
\---   


  
When Revenant boots up and activates his optics, he’s in the skinsuit’s bedroom.   
  
_ What? Oh god, did I fuck him again? _   
  
“Welcome back to land of the living,” the skinsuit replies, smirking a little bit when Revenant rolls his eyes. “I take it you’re feeling better?”   
  
“I...yeah, I am. Wait, what--?” he freezes as he mentally replays the footage his opticals recorded of the previous night.   
  
_ Oh god. Oh no. Did I seriously--FUCK! _   
  
Yes, he seriously did. He cried in front of the synthsuit again. The screaming from Tenmei had gotten so loud he couldn’t take it anymore, and he couldn’t make it stop. The loudest scream was always his own voice.   
  
“Did you figure out whatever the fuck you did to me with that drone?” Revenant growls, crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
The human laughs, and it’s only then that he realizes how ridiculous he must look, laid out across the human’s workbench with his arms crossed like a pouting skinsquirt. He sits up, jumping off the table with an indignant grunt.    
  
“Nope, I’m not finished,” the skinsuit with three different names says, like he’s scolding a small child. “Back on the bench. Now, please.”   
  
“Fuck off, skinsuit,” Revenant grunts. 

He’s feeling much more himself today.   
  
“Do you want me to fix your dick or not?”

“You don’t need to worry about my dick, skinsuit,” the Spectre snaps. “It works just fine. Thought you’d have figured that out after the other night.”   
  
“That’s not what I meant,” the human replies, smirking. “But have it your way. Anyway, listen -- I fixed your arm, and the part of your brain that was physically broken. Looks like I knocked your emotional dampener loose when I wrecked you with Jee.”   
  
“That little shit did not  _ wreck _ me--”   
  
“I have standards, and I don’t fuck with emotional dampeners,” the skinsuit interrupts, folding his own arms across his chest now, too. “They’re unethical. If you want that thing put back in, you’ll have to find someone else, I’m not doing it. I installed a mood stabilizer, however, and that seems to have stopped...whatever was disturbing you last night.”   
  
_ A skinsuit with ethics. Ha-ha. Good one. _   
  
Revenant grunts noncommittally.   
  
“But they’ve got you locked down tight, and it’s going to take me some time to tackle your programming. Can’t get in yet, but it’s a matter of time. There’s always a way, I just haven’t found it yet.”   
  
“You sure think a lot of yourself, skinsuit,” Revenant sneers, because he doesn’t know what else to say.   
  
“I can’t run diagnostics until I’m in, so you’ll have to come back later if you want your programming looked at,” Park replies, ignoring the Spectre’s rudeness. “If you do choose to return, I’d appreciate it if you knocked, and came during business hours.”   
  
“Huh,” the Revenant grunts. He hasn’t decided whether he’ll be coming back.   
  
Well, he hasn’t decided if he’ll be coming back for programming. He’ll definitely be coming back for...recreational purposes.   
  
“Now, get back on the table. I’m not finished welding your skull shut."   


  
\--   


  
Only days later they’re running out of hardware to fix, because parts are nearly impossible to find -- in Vinson’s dumpsters or anyone else’s -- and Park is still trying to find a security workaround. For reasons he hasn’t yet been able to name, the Spectre has found himself looking for any flimsy excuse to extend their meetings. Without a way to work on programming, there’s really not much of a reason for them to hang out anymore.   
  
“I’m surprised, honestly,” the human says one night, after cleaning three centuries worth of sand out of the Spectre's joints. “The Syndicate kind of sucks when it comes to security. The digital kind, anyway. They like to cut corners to cut costs. But they spared no expense with you. Whoever touched your hard drive last didn’t want anyone else getting in.”   
  
“The fuck would you know about the Syndicate, skinsuit?” Revenant growls.   
  
The human doesn’t say anything for a moment.   
  
“They killed my sister,” he murmurs.   
  
“Oh right, and framed you for murder,” Revenant finishes for him, suddenly remembering seeing the article in The Outlands Journal along with the human’s “wanted” poster.   


The skinsuit freezes, clearly terrified.   
  
“I...how did you know?”   
  
“Retina scan,” the Spectre replies. “The eye without the camera in it. Matches the same eye on your wanted poster.”   
  
“Fuck,” the skinsuit curses under his breath in Korean.   
  
“Relax, synthsuit,” the robot tells him. “They’ll never notice, trust me. Like you said, their shit is cheap. It’s only one eye, so it still fools their shitty little retina scanners. For now, at least. But yeah, maybe put that on your to-do list.”   
  
“I see,” says the skinsuit, before adding, “Please...do not speak of it to the others. I cannot let Elliott into this...this side of my life. I cannot put him in danger. Please.”   
  
“Cool your fuckin’ jets, fleshpuppet,” the Spectre replies, rolling his eyes. “I’ll keep your stupid little secret. Not like I give a fuck which skinsuits you have or haven’t killed.”   
  
“I did  _ not _ kill her!” the skinsuit snaps, clenching both half-synthetic fists.   
  
_ Oof. Touched a nerve. _   
  
“I’m sure you didn’t. Shit, knowing them, they sent something like me after her,” Revenant says. “Or whatever they’ve got doing their fuckin’ dirty work these days.”   
  
Revenant looks up. There’s a mirror in front of them, leaning against the human’s bedroom wall. Revenant hates it, but it’s not his room, so he settles for trying to ignore it whenever he’s inside. But the human is staring at him through it from where he stands behind him, one hand knuckle-deep in Revenant’s skull, the other clutching the world’s tiniest screwdriver. There’s something odd about it, the way the human’s looking at him, but when their eyes meet in the mirror, the skinsuit quickly looks away.   
  
“They’re monsters,” the human murmurs after a moment. “The Syndicate. All of them, every last one.”   
  
“You got that right, skinsuit,” growls the Revenant. “They deserve a painful death. All of them, every last one.”   
  
He’s surprised when the skinsuit doesn’t argue. They tend to defend their own kind, even when they’ve been betrayed.   
  
“It is strange,” the skinsuit says, meeting his gaze again. “Being able to speak freely about this. I’ve been running for so long, I sometimes feel I’ve forgotten how to tell the truth.”   
  
Revenant doesn’t know what to say about that, so he just grunts.   
  
“Alright,” Park says, lowering Revenant’s red cowl and stepping back. “Good as new.”   
  
“We done here?” he growls, knowing the answer is yes and hating himself for wishing it was no.   
  
“We are,” the synthskin says, nodding.

Revenant hops off the workbench, and for a moment they both just stand there, staring at each other in the mirror.   
  
Finally the Spectre makes for the door, but before he can wrench it open and slam it shut behind him, the skinsuit speaks.   
  
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”   
  
Revenant stops in his tracks, looking back at the human over his shoulder.   
  
“The fuck you talkin’ about, synthsuit?” he asks it, turning back and taking a step towards the human.   
  
He’s got that insufferably smug little smile on his face, the one that pops up when he knows he’s bested someone at their own game.   
  
“You never said ‘thank you,’” the skinsuit says in that velvety, infuriatingly-calm voice of his.   
  
_ Oh, so that’s how it is, eh? Okay. Game on, synthskin. _   
  
He takes another step towards the human.   
  
“You’re playing a dangerous game, fleshpuppet.”   
  
“I know,” says the synthsuit. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kind of do that for a living.”   
  
“I ain’t talking about the fuckin’ ring, kid,” Revenant growls, stepping close enough that his electronic nose can smell him.

Skinsuits mostly smell like fear and sweat, but not this one. This one smells _good._   
  
“I know,” the skinsuit says again.  
  
“You want a ‘thank you’? Fine. I’ll give you a fucking thank you,” the Spectre murmurs darkly. It takes another step, forcing the human to take one backwards.   
  
He rests a metal hand on the skinsuit’s chest, where he can feel that little skinsuit heart pounding away against the human’s rib cage. He’s not sure why, but it excites him, the fact that he gets the skinsuit excited. The fact that he gets its blood pumping.  
  
He shoves the skinsuit back, following him down onto his bed. The little gasp of surprise the action elicits from the human is _delicious._  
  
_I’m about to make you do a helluva lot more than gasp, skinsuit._  
  
\--  
  
“Ohgod, please don’t stop,” gasps the synthskin as it rides him, whimpering each time it’s impaled on his dick.  
  
“I ain’t fuckin’ stopping til I’m done with you, skinsuit,” Revenant growls, hips jerking upward into that slick, tight warmth. “And I ain’t _fuckin’ _done yet.”  
  
The skinsuit moans, and Revenant feels its cock twitch where it’s trapped tightly between two physics-defying fingers, throbbing and leaking but unable to cum due to the robot’s tight grip. His other hand is keeping both of the skinsuit’s wrists bound behind his back, so he can’t control how deep that thick steel cock fucks into him.  
  
“Fuck, look at you,” Revenant grunts, relishing the ruined moan that escapes his favorite skinsuit when he turns up the intensity of the vibrator in his dick.  
  
_“Agh!_ Ohgodyes, yes,_ fuck, _you feel _so good,”_ his pretty little human gasps. “So fucking good, so perfect--_ah!_ Oh my _god--”_  
  
Revenant laughs. The kid is pretty stoic in the ring, never quite giving him the reaction he wants. But _fuck,_ now he’s thoroughly coming undone at the flick of a robotic wrist and it is absolutely _delicious.__  
_  
“What would your little friends say if they knew what we were up to, _hmmm?”_ the Spectre asks the human above him, groaning at how hard the little skinsuit tightens up around his cock when it processes his question. “Fuck yes, you little slut--_nghhh,_ _fuck_\--ride my big steel cock, baby. Juuuust like that…”  
  
The human lets out a humiliated little moan, flushing pink.  
  
“Please, _please--”_  
  
“What would your little friend with the holograms say if he knew, _hmm?”_ the Spectre purrs again, slamming up into that _perfect little body, fuck._ “The one that calls you ‘Daddy’? What would he say if he knew his pretty little boyfriend was fucking a _monster?”_  
  
“He _does_ know!” moans the skinsuit, beginning to tremble with desperation.  
  
Robots can’t choke, but if they could, this one would have.  
  
“You _told_ him?” the robot asks in disbelief, actually stopping the motion of its metal hips. “And he didn’t...leave you?”  
  
_“No,_ nobody left anybody--_ngh, _will you_ please--”_ groans the skinsuit, bucking its slender hips in frustration. “God, please, please let me cum, I’m so close--_fuck!”_  
  
The poor thing shudders from head to toe with the tremors of another denied orgasm. Revenant turns up the intensity of his vibrating cock a little more.  
  
_“Ah!_ Ohmygod, fuck! _Please,” _it begs him shamelessly, every other word coming out in its native tongue as it sobs, still bouncing on his cock and whimpering pathetically with every jerk of the Spectre’s hips.   
  
“Y’know, normally I’d make you work for it,” Revenant purrs deviously, chuckling at the distressed little cry it earns him from the skinsuit. “But since this is supposed to be a thank-you and all, I guess I’ll let you cum.”  
_  
__“PLEASE,”_ the synthskin sobs again, and based on the way it sounds, it came out in Korean.  
  
_Oh yeah, this is gonna be good._  
  
Revenant releases the skinsuit’s cock, still gripping his wrists. He reaches up with his free hand, slipping his fingers between the human’s pretty lips and groaning at the slick heat beneath his fingers. He extends them further down the human’s throat this time, and to the skinsuit’s credit, it doesn’t even gag, just swallows and moans around them, still fucking itself on the Spectre’s thick cock.  
  
“Fuck yeah, let Daddy hear you,” Revenant growls, fucking him harder. 

Even he’s not sure if he’s referring to the skinsuit’s boyfriend, or himself. It doesn’t matter. The sound it pulls out of the skinsuit is  _ delicious,  _ and the way his pretty face suddenly turns pink makes it absolutely worth it.   
  
_ “Mmmph!” _ the skinsuit sobs, then it’s cumming all over him, abs flexing as it clenches tightly around his cock and cries out his name.   
  
Revenant groans when he feels the skinsuit spill all over him, hot and wet and so,  _ so _ filthy.   
  
_ Fuck, this is the best lay I’ve had since Ash. This skinny little shit can take a dick, god damn… _   
  
This skinsuit is thin enough that Revenant can feel its pelvic bones from the inside with every thrust. It collapses on top of him, and he’s tempted to keep fucking it, just grab those skinny hips and fuck it as hard as it can physically take, empty every last drop of himself and watch that little belly swell just slightly from being so full of robot dick. But he doesn’t. He nearly killed it last time, and he’d like to avoid actually doing that, because skinsuits aren’t any fun to fuck when they’re dead. Plus, this fuck was meant to be a thank-you, so it’s not really about him. Still, it’s a shame, and it’s difficult to make himself stop fucking it.

_ Fragile little bags of flesh. They can only take so much. _   
  
He’s rather surprised when, a few seconds after he’s stopped burying his dick in it, the skinsuit catching its breath on his chest stirs and sits up. Then it’s rolling off him and replacing that tight little ass with its tight little  _ throat. _   
  
“Fuck,  _ nghhhhh _ \--w-what’re you doing, skinsuit?”   
  
Park pulls his pretty lips from that stainless steel cock with an obscene little pop, grinning up at the Spectre as he licks them in a manner that’s almost obscene.   
  
“Returning the favor,” he says with a wicked little grin, and then he’s swallowing Revenant’s cock and moaning around it.   
  
_ God, I can’t even remember the last time a skinsuit sucked me off. _

_ ...wait, yeah I can. Nevermind. Heh.  _

_ God, that one with the Stim addiction is such a fuckin’ wreck, hahaha. _

It wouldn’t even matter if he couldn’t remember, though -- because he wasn’t able to feel it back then. He could feel it now, though,  _ god damn _ could he feel it. He could feel every delightful little flick of that wicked tongue against his cockhead along with-- _ wait, what the hell is that? _   
  
There’s something made of metal in the human’s mouth--no, in his  _ tongue _ \--and it takes a scan with his metal detector to realize what he’s feeling.   
  
_ Damn, wasn’t expecting that. You’re just full of surprises, little synthskin. _   
  
One of those surprises is that the jewelry he just discovered in the skinsuit’s mouth fucking  _ vibrates. _   
  
“Oh  _ fuck--!” _ the Spectre gasps, metal hands tangling in the synthsuit’s soft, dark hair.   
  
The look in the human’s eyes as it sucks him off and massages his cock with that vibrating tongue ring is one of pure, gleeful wickedness. Revenant can barely think, the pleasure is overwhelming, and so unfamiliar -- by now he’s usually standing over whatever human was unfortunate enough to find their way into his bed, stroking his own cock while they kneel in front of him and wait for him to blow a load of coolant all over their face. But for some reason he can’t get himself to do that, can’t make himself yank the human’s lips away and pray it’s smart enough to close its eyes when he cums all over its face.   
  
It’s a shock -- to the Revenant, at least -- when he’s suddenly cumming with no warning, back arching as he snarls and spills every last drop onto the human’s surprisingly-talented tongue.   
  
_ “Fuck,  _ skinsuit!” he gasps, hips still jerking forward against the human's face as a few final spurts of coolant cum paint the back of its synthetic-skinned throat.   
_   
_ _ You’re lucky your throat is made of Teflon, you crazy little shit. _ He’s positive any other skinsuit would have simply suffocated to death from the violent facefucking that commences when the Spectre starts to cum. _   
_   
The orgasm hits him like the blast of a charge rifle, and though it doesn’t last more than a few seconds, it feels like it’s never going to stop. It’s only happened like this a few times, and he’s never been able to feel it until now. Once or twice before, on the rare occasion he’d found a skinsuit that actually knew what they were doing, he’d spill in their mouth instead of all over it. He knows the drill -- this is the part where the pretty skinsuit makes a face and spits it out, which is probably for the best, because god only knows what it’s made of -- he’s not even sure it  _ is  _ coolant, he’s just assuming because  _ what the hell else kind of wet blue stuff do you put in a robot? _ Exactly.   
  
The Revenant’s copper-plated jaw actually drops open when the skinsuit swallows an entire mouthful of his cum without a hint of hesitation.   
  
The sound that leaves the robot as he watches the skinsuit lick up a few errant drops from the Spectre’s abdomen defies words, but it’s somewhere between the snarl of a particularly territorial flyer, and the hiss of an overheated L-STAR.   
  
“Holy fuck,” the artificial man gasps, somehow feeling rather breathless despite not having any lungs.   
  
“Good?” the skinsuit asks, rolling onto his belly and reaching out to pluck his electronic cigarette up from the bedside table. It’s a big one, not the skinny little cig-alike he uses on the go. He takes a deep drag, rolling onto his back and relaxing into the pillow, then exhaling. The vapor curls upwards for a few moments, then floats back down, settling over the skinsuit’s tattooed skin like early-morning fog.   
  
Though he’d never admit it, what the synthetic nightmare is thinking as it watches him is  _ damn, he is fucking beautiful. _ _   
_   
“‘Good’ is putting it fuckin’ mildly, skinsuit,” Revenant says, taking the ecig from the human’s outstretched hand.   
  
Park laughs. “Hey, like I said -- just returning the favor.”   
  
Revenant takes a drag, and  _ fuck, it tastes good, _ like a strawberry shortcake, almost. Food is one of the things he misses the most. Fruit, especially. Strawberries were his favorite. He’s not sure how he knows that, only that he does. He remembers what it tastes like, biting into one, feeling the summer sun on his face and cool breeze in his hair and soft grass beneath his feet.   
  
“This is delicious,” the Spectre says, blowing the vapor out through the hole where his nose should be, like some sort of skeletal dragon.   
  
Fucking skinsuits is one thing. He’s not proud of it, but hey -- shit happens. Kissing them, though? No way. What happened between them on the drop platform was a fluke, an outlier, a deviation from the norm. Nothing more. A one-time thing.   
  
It’s difficult to explain, then, why the robot then proceeds to take another drag, then lean forward and press his cold, metal lips against human’s soft ones, exhaling slowly into its mouth. The skinsuit breathes him in, just like before. Then he blows it all out in a single puff before bringing their lips together again, with no pretext of shared smoke to disguise what it really is: a kiss. A passionate, searing kiss that makes the Spectre suddenly feel hot all over, like he does when he’s dragging himself out of a lava pit, or walking through a building that also happens to be on fire.   
  
The skinsuit’s hand comes up to cup the side of his faceplate, almost as if to keep him from being able to pull back. Revenant groans, pulling the synthskin back on top of him and sliding his metal palms up the smooth organic skin covering the man’s back. He takes the skinsuit’s bottom lip between his own, pressing them together. The skinsuit gasps as its lip is bitten, but then it’s moaning, slipping its warm, wet tongue into his hollow mouth. The human tastes like cigarettes and strawberry cheesecake and coolant fluids, and Revenant wishes he had a tongue to soothe that bitten lip with. But he doesn’t, so instead, he threads the fingers of one metal hand through that pretty hair and kisses back as best he can.   
  
When the skinsuit pulls back for air, the Spectre can’t resist grinding his cock against its inner thigh. He tries not to think about how much he enjoys the surprised little gasp it earns him from the human. The brightness of the golden light streaming from the robot’s illuminated eye sockets intensifies for a few seconds as he flips the both of them, trapping the synth-skinned human beneath him. It moans softly when he rolls his hips forward again, leaning down to appraise its fragile little body with a predatory glee, just like he has with so many others.   
  
But unlike with the others, the Revenant presses his artificial mouth against this skinsuit’s scarred-up shoulder, then drags his lips up the side of its neck instead of pressing a hole through its chest with his artificial hand.   
  
The skinsuit squirms when those cold lips ghost over his SynthSkyn-covered earlobe. He makes a funny little noise, and at first the Revenant can’t figure out why. So he does it again, to see if he can find out, and the skinsuit squirms just like before, this time leaning away to escape the Spectre’s mouth at the same moment that its hips jerk forward against its thigh. 

It’s very confusing. 

It seems like the skinsuit wants him to stop, but its dick is getting hard again, and it’s beginning to grind that hardness against the robot’s metal thigh.   
  
_ Skinsuits don’t make any sense. Pick a fuckin’ lane, kid. _   
  
When he pulls his mouth away, the synthetic killing machine sees that little bumps have popped up all over the human’s skin -- both the organic and synthetic parts -- and then it dawns on him: the skinsuit is  _ ticklish. _

Revenant laughs, and can’t resist doing it once more, then taking the soft synthetic flesh of the human’s earlobe between his lips and pinching it gently. The skinsuit shivers, letting out a weak little moan. He feels its cock twitch against his thigh.   
  
“Wanna know the best thing about fucking a robot, skinsuit?”   
  
_ “Mmm, _ what?” Park hums, eyes falling shut as his artificial lover strokes a robotic hand down the side of his ribcage, causing little bumps of ticklishness to pop up there, too.   
  
“We never run out of stamina,” Revenant growls, letting that hand drift a little further down, spreading the skinsuit’s thighs so he can spear it on his cock again.   
  
_ “MnnnnnghFUCK--”  _ the human all but shouts, back arching when the robot’s cockhead bumps against his core. It’s not even in all the way yet, but the skinsuit’s own cock is already twitching and leaking all over its stomach.    
  
As much as the Spectre wants to sink every last centimeter of himself into that delicious heat, he manages to resist the urge. Skinsuits are sensitive, after all, and he’s already fucked this one within an inch of its life once this evening.   
  
Revenant can’t help but chuckle at the bratty little whine that leaves the skinsuit when it realizes it’s not getting dicked down with as much force as it could be. It tries to buck its hips to take him deeper, only to find that it can’t, because a metal hand is keeping it pinned down against the mattress.    
  
“Don’t stop, I need you to  _ fuck _ me!” the human cries without a hint of shame.   
  
The robot laughs again.    
  
_ It’s always the quiet ones. _   
  
The skinsuit whimpers, still trying to find a way to further impale itself on his cock.

“Beg for it,” the Spectre growls, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how desperately he needs to hear it. “Beg for my cock.”   
  
“Fuck, please!” the skinsuit sobs immediately, fingers tangling in the crimson fabric wrapped around the robot’s head and shoulders.   
  
Revenant sinks his cock a little deeper, but not all the way, determined not to give the skinsuit what it wants just yet.   
  
“No. Get specific, skinsuit. Tell me what the fuck you want. Tell me  _ why,” _ he snarls, finally sheathing his aching dick deep within the human, but refusing to move at all once he has.   
  
The skinsuit lets out another frustrated cry. Its thighs are shaking, that tight little ass clenching rhythmically around him, trying to pull him even deeper.   
  
“God,  _ please!”  _ his favorite skinsuit moans, still trying in vain to fuck itself on his dick. “Please, p-please fuck me. Don’t be gentle. Fuck, I  _ need _ it, I-- _ nngh, _ please!”   
  
_ “Why?” _ the robot snarls, pulling out just enough to slam back in once more and elicit another strangled cry from the human trapped beneath him. “Tell me  _ why _ you need it, you greedy little slut.”   
  
The skinsuit bites its lip, like it’s trying to concentrate enough to squeak out an answer that hasn’t been rendered unintelligible by the force of a vibrating metal dick. Which shouldn’t be too hard, as that dick isn’t even vibrating...yet.   
  
“I…”   
  
_ “Why?” _ the Spectre grunts once more, with another vicious thrust of his hips. 

The tone of his own voice is a little harsher than he means for it to be, but he doesn’t care. He has to hear it. He has to know  _ why. _ Why anyone would want this, ever, even once, let alone multiple times.   
  
“B-because I--because you--you’re fascinating,” Park finally manages to gasp, reaching up to cup one side of the robot’s faceplate with a half-synthetic hand. “And you scare me, but…”   
  
The human trails off, making an embarrassed little noise and tightening up around the Spectre’s massive metal cock.   
  
“But  _ what?”  _ Revenant grunts, finally losing patience and beginning to give the skinsuit a taste of what it wants. 

He tightens his grip on the human’s left hip and yanks it down to meet each lazy thrust. The skinsuit sobs, tears leaking from the corner of each of its pretty brown eyes. They’re a different sort of brown than the eyes of the one with the holograms, a cooler, darker shade, less like caramel and more like dark chocolate. Its tears are just as sweet.   
  
“But I  _ like _ it!” Park finally cries, turning as red at his own confession as he does when the Spectre’s hands are around his throat when they fight in the ring. “I like the way you scare me, fuck, you’re  _ terrifying _ , but you’re beautiful, and--”   
  
He doesn’t get to finish, because all of the air is promptly forced from his lungs when the robot leans back, kneeling on the mattress as both metal hands wrap around the human’s waist hard enough to bruise, pulling his lower half up off the bed to meet each brutal thrust.   
  
“God, yes,” the pretty little thing sobs, those pretty brown eyes rolling back as he adds,  _ “Oh god, yes, thank you…” _ in his native tongue.   
  
The robot barks out a harsh, breathless chuckle -- this skinsuit seems to be particularly adept at tickling the skeletal robot’s funny bone, he’s begun to notice.    
  
_ So polite. Who the fuck says ‘thank you’ while getting fucked in the ass? _   
  
For once, since no one else is there to hear it, the Revenant leans down, bringing his mouth to the human’s ear and murmuring “You’re fuckin’ welcome, skinsuit.”   


  
\--

  
Hours later, when his pretty skinsuit has finally collapsed into slumber from sheer exhaustion, Revenant stays, watching him sleep. He’s not sure how long he stays, but the human doesn’t seem to mind him sharing its bed -- or its nicotine. That, or the poor thing is too worn out to kick him out.   
  
Still, the happy little sigh that escapes it when he reaches out to trace some of the beautiful synthetic skin covering its throat seems to indicate it’s the former. Thankfully.   
  
The metal monster studies the sleeping human, taking another drag from its electronic cigarette and wondering how it got the enormous scar peeking out from under the synthetic skin of its throat and streaking across one shoulder. He then finds himself promptly wondering why the fuck he even cares.   
  
_ I  _ ** _don’t _ ** _ fuckin’ care. _   
  
He doesn’t. 

No, really.   
  
The skinsuit makes a soft noise of distress in his sleep, gripping the sheets and starting to breathe a little funny. After a few moments, it dawns on the robot that it’s having a bad dream. Revenant reaches out to shake the human awake, but stops short, realizing that waking up in bed with a monster would probably make it a million times worse.   
  
He’s surprised when the synthskin jerks awake seconds later, obviously panicking, looking around like he’s not sure where he is. Revenant winces -- on the inside, anyway -- as he awaits the inevitable scream, but it never comes. Instead, when the skinsuit’s eyes adjust to the darkness and focus on the Spectre’s frightening visage, he exhales, almost like he’s relieved. He rubs one eye -- the one with the implant, and Revenant almost laughs. It’s all so goddamned strange. The skinsuit’s hair is sticking up on one side, which he’s never seen before. Its eyes are a little puffy from sleep. The vein in the side of its neck is still throbbing with adrenaline from whatever it was just dreaming about.   
  
_ He was probably dreaming about the fact that he just fucked a nightmare in real life, idiot, _ the robot thinks.   
  
But if that’s the case, it doesn’t show, because the skinsuit just scoots a little closer, snuggling up to the Revenant’s hard, cold chest and slinging a naked thigh over his metal hips. Just a few moments later, it seems he’s already drifted off again.

Sleep is strange. Pointless, really. It doesn’t save skinsuits much energy -- only about 100 calories worth for every eight hours spent unconscious, unprotected, and totally vulnerable. It’s like death in a way, the place where skinsuits go when they’re not awake, but not dreaming, either. Dark, silent, peaceful. 

_ Sleep is just death being shy. _   
  
The robotic killer watches as the gorgeous little skinsuit in his bed drapes an arm over his metal chestplates, wondering if the human’s dreaming, or floating in the dark, peaceful place.   
  
The Revenant wonders how he can sleep so well, lying next to a monster.

  
\---   


  
He tries to seem indifferent when the human awakens the next morning and he’s  _ still  _ there. He only stayed because he’d never had one swallow his cum before, and skinsuits are delicate. That’s really all it was. He just wanted to be sure this one wasn’t going to die without him giving it permission to, that’s all.   
  
He gets up to leave, but a warm, synth-skinned palm closes around his metal wrist.

  
For reasons he will never be able to explain, the Revenant doesn’t resist when the weak little human tugs him back into the bed, murmuring “Come here, you.”   


\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback in the comments! I had to split one chapter into 3 because it was too big for AO3's maximum chapter length, so I've had to cut it into several smaller ones. Hang in there, ch. 14 drops tomorrow! Y'all ready for some Shadowverse Bloodhound? Wait til you see what they're hunting. >:D


	14. Shadow on the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s your name?” The Spectre groans against the scars on the decoy’s throat. “I have to know.”
> 
> _He forgot my name?! OMG. What a jerk!_
> 
> “E-Elliott,” the shy decoy gasps, still jerking with the occasional aftershock.
> 
> “Well I’m gonna fill this perfect little ass with my cum, _Elliott,”_ the robot grunts, hips stuttering as he nears the edge. “God you feel so fuckin’ _good.”_
> 
> _Holy shit._
> 
> Every hair on the back of the real Elliott’s neck is standing straight up.
> 
> ...and so is his dick.
> 
> \--
> 
> Revenant makes a (synthetic) friend. Elliott tries to wrap his head around the fact that his boyfriend is fucking a monster, and he's not the only one. Renee experiences the worst nightmare she's ever had. Tae Joon falls ill, and is cared for by professionals who have excellent bedside manner. In the world of Shadows, darkness lurks within a cave near the slums, biding its time...
> 
> \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The third of our three newest chapters (which were originally just one giant one, which was too big for AO3's text editor) is finally here. I really hope you all enjoy it, please leave feedback in the comments!
> 
> In case you missed it, check out the [(un)Official Spider Byte Soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuzlshbuNvtbkdZJCgNOmkCin2PW-mCfR) and hit me up on [Tumblr](http://www.holosuithacker.tumblr.com) to suggest new songs!
> 
> Since some of you have asked, I made a ko-fi account. Contributions are welcomed (especially given our current, germy, unemployed circumstances), but they are not required nor are they expected. Spider Byte will continue to be updated until it's complete regardless. But hey, if you really wanna [buy me a coffee,](http://www.ko-fi.com/beautybot) I ain't gonna stop you, like, I sleep on an air mattress on the floor, Lawd knows I can't afford to say no, lmao. Still, please don't feel pressured to contribute. Take care of yourselves first and foremost.
> 
> Some of you have expressed concern about a murderbot stalking me, and I just want to assure you that these rumors are utterly false. Rev would like to make it known that he is not _stalking_ me, he's holding me hostage until my "useless skinsuit fingers learn to TYPE FASTER." Thus, all is well.
> 
> And now, for the story...

The skinsuit didn’t lie to him. His head feels better, and he can actually charge his battery to 100% without hearing the screams for the entire charge cycle. And the boyfriend _ does _ know about him, it turns out. The skinsuit didn’t lie about that part, either.  
  
The boyfriend follows his favorite skinsuit around almost as closely as the drone, and Revenant wants to strangle him most of the time. He’s even less capable of keeping his mouth shut than the little idiot with the jump pads.  
  
For the most part, he tries to ignore him, make his deaths in the ring quick and painless, but he is _ so god damn annoying. _ He’s handsome, too -- by skinsuit standards, anyway, and that shouldn’t have anything to do with it, but it does. He doesn’t know how lucky he is, having soft lips and a warm tongue and a body with actual skin for the synthsuit to lick and bite and suck. He has hands that won’t bruise him, and he’s warm instead of cold.  
  
The worst part is that he’s pretty. _ Very _ pretty. Almost as pretty as the Spectre’s own skinsuit was, once upon a time.  
  
Not that it mattered.  
  
The boyfriend is evidently feeling fucking brave today, because he will _ not _ shut up and is baring half his torso for some reason, and despite promising to always make the idiot's death a quick affair, Revenant technically never promised not to use the armblade.  
  
He’d stabbed the fool through his fancy power armor in the very first game of the season. And yet here he was, scantily clad in an even more pathetic excuse for armor that bared his tanned (and of course, fucking _ ripped) _ stomach for all to see. This was clearly just to get Park’s attention, as the idiot with the holograms seemed determined to be the center of it at all times.

For reasons the robot couldn’t explain, it pissed him off.  
  
The skinsuit was just asking to get stabbed in the chest again, frankly. He’s lucky the Spectre waited until they were in the ring.

\---

_ Don't do it, _ the Spectre tells himself, knowing he's going to do it anyway. 

The skinsuit with the holograms is beneath him, trapped between the floor of one of the shattered buildings on World's Edge and the hulking mass of metal that is pinning it to said floor.

"Please," gasps the skinsuit, shuddering when Revenant extends his fingerblades and splays a metal hand over its unprotected torso. "God, p-please make it quick."

Even with his palm against the man's stomach, Revenant can feel his heart pounding against the sensors in his metal hands. He's got some sort of holoarmor creating the illusion that he's synthetic from the waist down, but he isn't, and the Spectre can tell from the way he walks.

Many of the skinsuits appear to recently have acquired similar gear, seemingly in the hopes of throwing him off of their little skinsuit scents. It’s not gonna work out particularly well for this one. Revenant isn't fooled. The pathetic whimpering is more than enough to tell him the skinsuit in front of him is entirely organic. 

"Aw," the Spectre says, his concern as artificial as the rest of him. "But it's not any fun when it happens too fast. I'm not just in it for the kill, skinsuit. I'm here because I like watching you _ suffer." _

The man is gasping like he's just run a mile, belly pressing forward against the Spectre's hand on each shaky inhale.

"And I'm not like your little fleshbag friends," the robot growls, his other hand absentmindedly tracing the human's faux-artificial hipbone. "I don't give one shiny metal _ fuck _ about this holographic shit you're wearing over your skinsuit. I only care about what's inside it."

The skinsuit shudders, squeezing its eyes shut.

Its pulse is pounding about as fast as a skinsuit can handle without dropping dead. The Spectre trails his bladed fingers down the bottom half of the holopilot's torso, still not breaking the skin, but just barely.

"C'mon, man, get it over with already," the skinsuit pleads, trembling.

It's_ immensely _satisfying, knowing that he's got the skinsuit so scared it'd literally rather die than spend another moment with him. But as much as he'd love to spend the next hour or so taking the annoying little shit apart piece by piece, he promised the synthskin he’d be nice and make it quick for the idiot with the holograms. Revenant’s favorite skinsuit had a soft spot for the man, for some inexplicable reason.

He's fully intending to impale the skinsuit on his fingerblades, but something is stopping him, and he can't figure out what the hell it is. It's distracting him enough that he doesn't even realize he's broken skin until he hears the little gasp from the human beneath him.

It's a tiny little slice, not very deep, and barely an inch long. It's enough to bleed, though, and that's when the Spectre realizes he's _ fucked. _

"You're a lucky man, skinsuit," the robot growls in his most frightening bad-guy voice. "If it weren't for your little boyfriend, you'd be screaming right now."

The hand on the human's hip comes up to grab his chin, squishing his cheeks together.

"That's the only reason you're not begging for mercy this very second, the only reason you're not--" Revenant stops abruptly, suddenly transfixed by the red leaking onto the skinsuit's tan, warm skin.

He snarls, gripping the skinsuit's chin a bit harder and relishing the weak little cry it earns him in return.

"Your skinsuit may be pretty, but you will _ never _ fuck him like I can," Revenant seethes, suddenly angrier at himself than the skinsuit. "And those good looks won't last forever. Neither will my patience. You keep fucking with me, and I don't give a shit what I told your synthskin -- I _ will _ kill you, and it will not be slow, it will not be gentle, and it most definitely will not be _ quick." _

He can see the lights in his opticals reflected in the human's wide, brown eyes. He's still straddling those faux-metal hips, still pinning the human to the ground, and still unable to explain exactly why he hasn't dismembered it yet. 

It gasps again when the Spectre retracts its blades, fingertips going blunt -- well, mostly-blunt -- once again. Despite his hard drive screaming at him to get his shit together, one of his barely-blunted claws is trailing a finger over the place where he broke the human's skin, smearing red across that ridiculous six-pack.

_ That's what you get for fucking with me, human. Bet you'll think twice about wearing this armor again. _

"Fuck," the one called Elliott breathes, cheeks still pinched between the Revenant's cold, cruel fingers. "I think I get it now."

He's got a strange sort of look about him that the robot can't quite place, but it's not the right face to be making when there's a giant killbot on top of you, smushing your stupid cheeks together. Some of the fear has faded from the skinsuit’s eyes.

"Get _ what?" _ the Spectre sneers, dragging his fingers back over the open wound and laughing at the hiss of pain it earns him from the stupid little skinsuit below him. "You finally realize how fucking stupid you are for wearing this bullshit you call armor? You're just begging for my attention. You beg for everyone's attention, you dramatic little brat, you--"

"No, no," the skinsuit says, not screaming it for some weird reason. "I meant the robot-fucking. At first I was like, 'Hyeon, WTF?' but I think I uh, g-get the appeal now. You're, uh, kind of hot. Mostly scary as shit though, don't worry."

The skinsuit is smiling, and suddenly the Revenant becomes aware of something hard -- well, hard for a skinsuit -- pressing insistently against the inside of the Spectre's metal thigh.

He snarls, releasing the skinsuit's chin in favor of putting some more red on that ridiculously-tan, annoyingly-ripped torso.

_ "Ah! _ Fuck, I'm s-sorry! I c-c-can't really control it!" the skinsuit whines, squirming. "T-trust me, you are the--fuck, _ ow _ \--last fuckin' guy I wanna have a boner for, and your freaky-ass scissorhands are the last thing I want to have a boner _ about." _

Revenant wraps a bloody, metal hand around the human's throat and squeezes. That usually shuts up the mouthy ones.

Usually.

But the man beneath him just groans and grinds his erection against the Spectre's thigh. 

"F-fuck...god, why is this hot?" The skinsuit moans, tilting his head back to give the robot better access to his throat. "How are you so fuckin' hot? _ Nghhh--" _

_ What the fuck is wrong with these skinsuits? Is there something in the water on this planet? Or in those fucking barrels of gas? Like, drugs? Shit, maybe they're all brain damaged from getting whacked in the face with that stupid drone. I clearly am... _

"C'mon dude, don't be such a tease," the human chokes out, gasping for what little oxygen the Spectre will allow him.

It's like every single one of them came out of the skinsuit factory with no self-preservation programmed into them whatsoever.

"You're a fool," the robot seethes, but before he can continue his intimidating monologue, he realizes something absolutely_ terrible. _

His traitorous dick is descending, tenting his loincloth and showing no sign of going the fuck away any time soon.

_ God dammit! What the fuck is wrong with me? _

_ Ugh, I should have let Park fix my dick. Christ, why does that little shit always have to be right about _ ** _everything?_ **

“Aww come on, Iron Man,” the human whines. “Don’t leave me hangin’!”

He wants to slice the cheeky little shit in two, but he knows if he stays, it's a just matter of time before it realizes the effect it's having on him, and that cannot happen.

"This isn't over, skinsuit," he snaps, before disappearing into the Void with a frustrated growl.

\--

Revenant is surprised to learn there's a version of the holopilot that _ isn't _ a mouthy little brat. He's even more surprised when he learns that there are several of them, all holograms, but they aren't programmed to be his slaves. Park and the rest of their little skinsuit friend group treat the decoys like they're individuals, like they're _ people, _ instead of artificial carbon copies of the same man. He even spies his favorite skinsuit _ kissing _ one of them, and he can only tell it's a decoy because it's whimpering like a puppy instead of moaning like a goddamned whore, which is what the real Elliott does whenever Park is touching him. Apparently one of the holograms attacked him not long ago. Revenant's not surprised about that -- _ who wouldn't want to tackle the spoiled little shit and teach him a lesson? _ \-- but he is surprised to learn that in response, he only knocked their free will settings down a notch.

He's not surprised when he learns that it was the synthsuit's idea to do that. Any other skinsuit would have turned their free will off entirely -- _ or shit, never made it a feature to begin with. What kind of skinsuit wants an A.I. that is capable of saying "no"? _

This one, evidently.

\---

He's on the godforsaken hologram ship the first time he meets it. It's staring at him.

"The fuck you lookin' at, skinsuit?"

Immediately, it averts its eyes. 

"I'm sorry!" the skinsuit says in a teeny, tiny voice.

_ Oh. One of the holograms, not the actual idiot. Thank fuck. _

"S'fine. Thought you were, uh--" _ fuck, what's his name? Something with an E? Shit, should probably know that by now... _

"Oh, you mean Daddy?" the decoy chirps in that deceptively-innocent voice.

The robot nearly blows a fuse.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The decoy's eyes go wide when he turns to leer at it, shrinking away and continuing to look anywhere but into his optical inputs. Its cheeks have gone rather rosy.

"I...s-sorry! You m-meant Elliott, right? That's what we call him!"

Something about the way it says the Legend's name is sort of precious. Revenant actually allows himself to admit it, because technically, this one isn't a skinsuit.

It looks just like one, though. It even _ smells _ like one. Distantly, a part of the Spectre wonders what it feels like. He's punched a hologram in the ring plenty of times, so they do have solid mass. Somehow.

"You call that idiot _ 'Daddy'?" _

"Daddy likes you," the little hologram tells him, evidently not noticing the way the Spectre twitches at the sound of that word. "But he says I should stay away from you, because you don't like us. He says you'll hurt me."

"I've already hurt you, little holoskin," Revenant growls. "You're the one I chased into that building earlier and finished on the roof, right?"

_ Right before your idiot ‘Daddy’ shot me in the ass. And then the face. _

_ God, I hate that tricky bastard. _

"Mhmm," says the decoy in that cute little voice as it fidgets with one of its holoemitters. “Th-that was me.”

_ How are you so much less annoying than your 'Daddy'? _

_ Ugh. That ain't right, calling him that. _

_ Why’s it so hot? _

_ Fuckin’ A. _

"But that was in the ring, so I didn't feel it," the holographic man continues. "Daddy said you'd hurt me outside the ring…"

Whatever Daddy told him, it hasn't stopped him from taking a few tentative steps towards the murder machine.

"Did he now?" Revenant replies, folding his arms and grinning a little on the inside. "And yet here you are, disobeying him. Naughty little thing, aren't you?"

Revenant watches as the shy creature swallows nervously, still toying with one of the tactical holoemitters that are strapped to each of its arms. In the absence of the real Elliott's never-ending stream of annoying behavior, the Revenant is starting to notice...other details. Details like the fact that those lips are awfully pretty when they're not busy telling highly-exaggerated stories of heroism.

_ All of him's pretty. _ The thought feels foggy, distant as it passes through the Spectre's mind. He scans that perfect little body from head to toe, distantly wondering how terrified it is of him on a scale of one to ten. 

"I'm not--" the decoy stops, stuttering a little. "I'm just...curious."

"Curious, huh?" _ I can work with curious. _

The decoy nods eagerly. 

"Curious about what?" Revenant asks him, stepping closer.

"Um," the decoy blushes again, looking up for half a second and then looking away. "Y-you."

Revenant's curious about the decoy, too. Whoever made him wasn't fucking around. He has physical mass, body heat, and an artificial heartbeat so believable, it always fools Revenant when they’re in the ring. It’s only tell is the way it flickers in and out of existence a little when it strays too far from the holosuit or the hologram ship. 

The metal assassin's optical inputs glow with delight.

"Me?" the Spectre purrs deviously, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them as the decoy swallows again, this time audibly. "What would a pretty little thing like you want to know about a big, scary monster like me?"

"Um," the decoy says in a small, shy voice. "Everything."

Revenant chuckles, leering down at the terrified digital skinsuit. 

"I'm--um, robots scare me a little bit," the holographic human confesses, biting his lip for a moment before he continues. "But Hyeon s-said I should introduce m-m-myself. He says you're not...not that bad."

"Not that bad, eh?" the Spectre purrs, scanning the holo-human from head to toe with his opticals as he takes another step, backing the decoy up against the wall of the ship.

_ Well, he fuckin' lied. _

He doesn't say that. Instead, he asks, "And what do _ you _ think, little holoskin?"

"Um," the hologram murmurs,, because that is evidently how it begins every sentence. "I dunno. I've never, uh, m-met a robot quite like you…"

"Oh, trust me," Revenant replies, reaching out to run a single metal finger down the side of the decoy's pretty face. "You have never _ ever _ met a robot like me."

The decoy shudders.

The Revenant doesn't have facial expressions, but if he did, he'd be grinning like the Cheshire cat. Or, perhaps more accurately, the Big Bad Wolf.

\---

Elliott hops off the zipline, landing on the upper deck of the _ Mirage Voy’age _. It’s the end of the day, and it’s been a long one. Very long, especially now that he’s sharing the arena with a murder machine. Thankfully said machine had disappeared to god knows where -- Hell itself, probably -- sometime in the mid-afternoon. This was uncommon -- the Spectre would sometimes disappear for a few days at a time, but when he was around, he played all day long, never missing a single match. Regardless of the reason for the Spectre’s absence, Elliott’s grateful. 

_ That thing is a walking nightmare. _

But that’s not something he has to worry about -- not until the following Monday at least. But for now, it’s Friday night. Time to hit the shower, then meet Hyeon and Renee at the firing range for some ill-advised tipsy target practice.  
  
He’s halfway down the hallway leading to the bedrooms when he hears it. A moan. It’s soft, but it sounds familiar.  
  
_ Turn around. That is definitely Renee and Hyeon, and you are definitely not invited to watch. Turn around, go back upstairs, find something to do with yourself until they’re done. _

_ No, do not jerk off. _  
  
He’s absolutely about to do just that (the turning around and leaving, not the jerking off), but then there’s another moan, much louder, and he recognizes the voice. It’s his own.  
  
_ OMG, is Hyeon fucking my decoy again? Okay, I am totally allowed to watch this. I mean, it’s technically me. _

_ Right? Right. _

Peering through the doorway, Elliott has to clap a hand over his mouth to avoid making some kind of noise, because what’s happening in his bedroom on the Boyfriend Boat makes _ no _ goddamn sense.  
  
It’s not Hyeon fucking his decoy, it’s the Revenant.  
  
And he’s fucking the _ shy _ one.  
  
_ What in the actual mother of fuck is happening? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ ...and why is it kind of hot? _  
  
His initial reaction is panic -- of all the versions of himself that shouldn’t fuck a murderbot, the shy one probably should least of all. But from the sound of things, it is _ thoroughly _ enjoying itself.  
  
Revenant has the decoy pinned beneath him on the bed, one leg slung over his metal shoulder as he fucks into it mercilessly, snarling like an animal. The poor thing is clinging to him for dear life, crying out with each thrust of the Spectre’s metal hips.

_ “Ah! Ah! Ah! Nnnngh _ you f-feel so good…” the decoy gasps out. “S-so good…”  
  
The robot laughs. “Not as good as you feel, little one.”  
  
Elliott’s decoy whines.  
  
_ “Fuck,” _ the robot hisses, grunting with the force of each thrust. “Fuck yeah, look at you, taking my cock so well. What a good boy.”  
  
The decoy lets out a pathetic little cry, tears slipping from the corner of each eye.  
  
“Please,” it gasps.  
  
“What is it, _ hmmm?” _ the killing machine purrs, thumbing the tears away from one side of the decoy’s face. “What do you need, baby?”  
  
“Please, please touch me,” the decoy moans, cock twitching against its stomach. “I’m so close, please.”  
  
The Spectre laughs again, and it rumbles like thunder. There's a cruelness to it that goes straight to the real Elliott's dick, for reasons he can't quite explain. 

Forge’s murderer wraps one of those deadly hands around the decoy’s cock, and Elliott is briefly afraid something _ terrible _ is about to happen, but the robot never extends its razor-sharp claws, it just closes one weirdly-flexible metal palm around the decoy’s cock and begins to stroke it in time with each thrust of its hips.  
  
_ “Ah! _ Oh god, oh my _ god--” _ the decoy sobs, back arching.  
  
“That’s right,” the Spectre groans, leaning in to press its metal lips against the decoy’s exposed throat. “Let all of Daddy’s little skinsuit friends hear you cum for me.”  
  
Goosebumps pop up all over the real Elliott's skin.

The pretty little hologram whimpers Revenant's name, the leg that isn’t resting on the robot’s shoulder wrapping around the back of his thigh.  
  
“Please,” it cries. “Please don’t stop!”  
  
Revenant growls, mouthing at the decoy’s throat as he jerks its ass down to meet his hips. Elliott hears a strange buzzing sound. It takes him a second to realize it’s the robot’s dick, and it’s _ vibrating. _  
  
_ Jesus, is that, like, a standard feature or something? _

_ Fuck. Maybe it’s time to get over the whole robophobia thing. _

The decoy sobs, toes curling as the Spectre grinds into it with the vibrating part of his anatomy. Elliott notices the decoy is clinging to the synthetic killer with both arms, one hand wrapped around the Revenant's shoulder blade (which doesn't appear to _ actually _ be a literal blade, shockingly), the other grasping the back of the robot's torso, as if trying to pull him closer. It’s almost hard to believe. Seeing it flirt with Hyeon is one thing but this is something else entirely, and certainly the last fucking thing Elliott ever expected to walk in on, let alone catch the most innocent, uncorrupted of his decoys in the middle of.  
  
“Yes! Ohgodyes, p-please, I’m gonna-- _ ngh!” _

"That's it," the Spectre hisses in the decoy's ear, hips snapping forward violently as he continues stroking the poor little hologram’s rigid cock. "Just like that, sweet thing. Shhhh, it's okay, don't cry…"

"So close, ohgodplease--"

"Fuck," Revenant groans, pulling back to get a better view of the soft little skinsuit ass that is presently engulfing his dick. "You gonna cum for me, little one? You gonna cum on this big metal cock for me?"

The sound of metal slapping flesh rings throughout the room. The decoy doesn't seem capable of speech anymore, but Elliott can tell from the way it's whining and jerking his hips upward, desperately trying to take the metal monster's thick cock even deeper -- the answer is _ definitely _ yes. It’s confirmed a second later when the decoy gathers the strength to utter a soft little _ “Mhmm!” _

Elliott just stares, mouth still agape, guiltily palming his cock through his holosuit and vaguely wondering when he got so _ fucking hard _ all of a sudden.

_ "Ah! Ah! Ah!" _ the hologram cries with each ruthless thrust of the Revenant's hips.  
  
The sounds coming out of the robot, however, defy description. It’s like no sound Elliott has ever heard a robot make. Like something halfway between the snarl of Bloodhound’s ultimate activating, some sort of beastly, untamed animal crossed with...some sort of monster, or a demon, or...Elliott wasn’t even sure what.  
  
_ How the fuck is this decoy not like, crying right now? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Okay, technically he’s crying. But like, how is he not screaming? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Well fuck, he’s doing that too. You know what I mean, Brain! How is he not, like, horrified? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ (Um. And why am I so fucking turned on?) _

Then his decoy's spine arches, eyes rolling into the back of its head. "Oh god, _ yes--" _

"That's right, baby," Revenant purrs, fucking into the holographic human with enough force to probably break an organic one. He leans forward, bringing his cruel metal lips close to the decoy’s ear and growling "Who's your '_ Daddy' _ now?"

The decoy sobs something unintelligible, its cheeks and ears flushing red. Then, with a surprised little gasp, it erupts all over its stomach, spilling holographic cum everywhere...and, from the looks of it, not for the first time. The real Elliott nearly does the same, but manages to keep his hand from slipping inside his holosuit by sheer force of will.  
  
“Fuck _ ,” _ the robot snarls against the hologram’s skin. “Fuck, I am going to _ ruin _ you. This tight little ass belongs to _ me.” _  
  
_ “Mhmm!" _ the decoy cries out again, shuddering with pleasure.  
  
_ Jesus tapdancing CHRIST, dude! _ Elliott thinks. _ Fucking fuck, how are you fucking this thing and I’m not? We’re having a talk later, holo-skank. You may get free will, but you are soooo not allowed to be more charming than me, you lucky little shit. How the fuck did you even talk this grumpy, metal motherfucker into our bed in the first place? I was hitting on him super hard and he like, stabbed me! The fuck, man? _  
  
“What’s your name?” The Spectre groans against the scars on the decoy’s throat. “I have to know.”

_ He forgot my name?! OMG. What a jerk! _  
  
“E-Elliott,” the shy decoy gasps, still jerking with the occasional aftershock.  
  
“Well, I’m gonna fill this perfect little ass with my cum, _ Elliott,” _ the robot grunts, hips stuttering as he nears the edge. “God you feel so _ fuckin’ good.” _

_Holy_ _shit._  
  
Every hair on the back of the real Elliott’s neck is standing straight up.  
  
...and so is his dick.  
  
_This is so fucked up. And hot. God. So hot. Why is it so freaking hot? Jesus fuck.__  
__  
_The decoy lets out a tortured cry, clearly overstimulated but still bucking its hips to meet each merciless thrust of the robot’s hips regardless.  
  
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” the Revenant growls, trailing one metal hand down the decoy’s bare chest, the other still dragging the decoy’s hips down to meet his own.  
  
Elliott’s not sure he heard the thing correctly, but the Spectre follows it up with _“so fuckin' beautiful,”_ so he must have.  
  
_“Ohgodyes,_ please,” the decoy moans, cheeks flushing pink again. “I w-want you to cum in me, _please.”_

_ OMG, you filthy little slut! _  
  
_ “Fuck!” _ Revenant cries, letting out the neediest little sound that Elliott has _ ever _ heard him make, like a sob crossed with some sort of...fucking death rattle. He's pretty fucking sure it isn't something that happens frequently.  
  
With a few more thrusts and another tortured, utterly _ ruined _ sort of moan, the robot cums, spilling into the hologram beneath him as he leans down to press their mouths together.  
  
_ OMG. Hyeon wasn’t kidding. He can kiss. _

_ Well, sort of. _

_ Close enough, whatever. _  
  
Neither of them move for a few moments. Eventually, the decoy lets out a dreamy little sigh, giggling as the robot awkwardly rolls off of him, the murder machine's torso splattered with white holo-jizz and...and something blue. 

_ Uh. OK. Wow. That was, uh, somethin'. _

Elliott decides that now is definitely the time to disappear into his camouflage. Then he remembers the robot can see through it, and promptly books it to the nearest zipline to Literally Anywhere Else.  
  
_ Did that really just happen? Holy _ ** _shit._ **

\---

He tells himself it's because the skinsuit moaning beneath him isn't really a skinsuit. He tells himself it's because the sweet, quiet decoy is _ technically _ an artificial intelligence.

He tells himself it has nothing to do with being attracted to the holoskin's fully-organic twin...though they share the same face, body, and voice.

Whatever it is, it is driving him utterly mad. Something about the beautiful little hologram beneath him is pressing all of his buttons. The look on its face is an expression of ecstasy, like it feels so good it hurts a little. It's soft and warm, somehow, _ so warm, _ and for the thousandth time Revenant wishes he had a tongue, because every last inch of the shy little thing is beautiful, and he wants to taste it, all of it.

He settles for pressing his cruel, cold lips to the decoy's soft, warm ones, praying that it won't be horrified by how empty his mouth is, because he wants to feel the holographic human's tongue inside it. The decoy gasps, but doesn't hesitate to lick eagerly into the Spectre’s mouth, nor does it recoil when it discovers there’s nothing inside.

_ Ugh. He’s perfect. _

Revenant leans forward, dragging those cold lips down the side of the decoy's throat, and he's reminded of the moment in the ring, when the real Elliott tilted his head back to give him _ more _ room to choke him. It makes a little more sense in this context, at least this time he's actually _ trying _ to arouse the pseudo-skinsuit. Like, on purpose.

He doesn't have to try very hard, though.

_ "Mmmmnngh _ you-- _ ah! _ \--f-feel so good-- _ mmmph! _ Ohgodyesplease--" the poor thing whines, shuddering beneath him and clenching tightly around his cock.

_ God, I will never get used to this. _  
  
He doesn’t remember sex being this intense, and he’s not sure why it’s something he keeps chasing lately. Whatever happened when Park wrecked his shit with the drone, he wasn’t expecting this. He’s never fucked a hologram before, but he wasn’t aware that was an option until quite recently. Now that he is, it’s all he’s been able to think about, and it’s even better in reality. The holopilot’s decoy clings to him, every part of that soft, yielding flesh is wrapped tightly around cold, hard metal, pulling him in and refusing to let go. It’s hard to believe how real the little decoy feels, squirming beneath him, stretched around the Spectre’s oversized metal cock. It's almost a shame the hologram feels so human, because it probably means he can only take so much robot dick -- or he's programmed to _ think _he can only take so much, or whatever -- and it's a tragedy to have to settle for only fucking the lovely little thing once that evening. 

If Revenant had his way, the poor hologram would be screaming his name from dusk 'til dawn.  
  
He feels something soft and wet graze his left shoulder, where a collar bone would be, if he had one. He doesn’t give it any thought until it happens again a few moments later, and he realizes it’s a mouth. The decoy is leaning up, pressing that sweet little mouth against the Revenant’s metal shell, lips brushing against it, followed closely by the slick heat of a tongue.  
  
_ What the hell is he doing? _  
  
The Spectre pauses his relentless thrusting for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly the holopilot’s holo-twin is trying to achieve. Revenant’s upper chest doesn’t do anything particularly special or impressive, unlike his dick, and he can’t figure out what would possibly compel the little imitation-skinsuit to lick it. Robotic entities don’t feel things quite the same as skinsuits, but he can feel the gentle pressure of the decoy’s lips pressing against him, and the searing heat of his tongue when he licks the metal plating covering the Spectre’s chest.

It whines when the Revenant ceases the violent thrusting of his hips, urging him on. He gives the needy little thing what it wants, beginning to fuck it again, but still completely distracted by the strange things it’s doing with that hot little mouth.  
  
“ _ Mnngh,” _ it moans against him, the sound of its voice vibrating through the robot’s mostly-hollow chest. “You’re so _ pretty…” _

_ I...what? _  
  
He realizes it’s kissing him, that it’s been _ kissing _ his hard, metal chest and licking it just like it licked into his mouth when their lips met for the first time. Warm fingertips ghost across his opposite side, tracing the pair of antennas that jut out of his shoulder blade at a ninety-degree angle, and the Revenant groans, gripping the bed’s headboard to keep himself from digging his claws into the decoy’s beautiful skin instead.  
  
_ You’re the pretty one, fuck. This eager little shit is gonna kill me. _  
  
Death by beautiful decoy seems like the best possible way to go though, honestly.  
  
“So pretty,” the decoy sighs again, momentarily detaching its mouth from the Revenant’s metal shell.  
  
The steel headboard is denting under the Spectre’s metal fingers as he grips it, shaking with the effort of not fucking the poor little thing right through the mattress and then the hull of the ship. The decoy gasps when he picks up the pace, metal hips slamming forward against holographic skin.  
  
“Somethin’ wrong with your fuckin’ optics, kid,” the robot growls.  
  
_ “Mmmm, _ no,” the brave little thing deigns to argue. “The minute I saw you I w-wanted--wanted you to--”  
  
The decoy is cut off by its own shocked cry when the cock buried in its ass starts to vibrate intensely once again.  
  
“I am not _ pretty,” _ the robot snarls, roughly gripping one of the decoy’s hips and stretching his fingers out until they engulf the hologram’s pelvis almost entirely as he yanks it down onto his cock. “I’m a monster.”

_ Why would you want to fuck a monster? _

“You’re right,” the decoy replies, whimpering as every muscle in its perfect body begins to tense up. “You’re not pretty, you’re _ g-gorgeous. _ You’re b-- _ oh!” _  
  
The artificial skinsuit cries out again when the murderous robot leans in close, folding it nearly in half as he continues pounding it into the mattress.  
  
“The only pretty thing in this room is what’s wrapped around my cock right now,” Revenant snarls, fucking into it hard enough to ensure that it can’t finish its sentence. 

He doesn’t think he can stand hearing more of its beautiful lies.  
  
The poor thing is crying out each time their hips meet, and the broken little moans pouring from its lips are quickly forcing the metal assassin to his breaking point. Those big, brown eyes are wide, locked on the Spectre’s own glowing yellow orbs with its bottom lip pinched between its teeth so tightly that a few sparks shoot out from the spot where the holographic skin has broken. Then he knows, he knows what it’s thinking but too afraid to finish saying, the words it’s trying to keep hidden behind those pretty, bitten lips: _ You’re beautiful. _  
  
“Fuck,” the Spectre hisses, unable to resist pulling some of that lovely tan skin between his lips as he closes his metal mouth around the decoy’s bare throat.  
  
He’s tried terribly hard to be careful with the sweet little thing, because even if it is synthetic, something about it seems rather...breakable, and the mess of scars littering one side of its throat makes Revenant wonder if its skinsuit-master has matching ones...or if he put them there himself. Regardless, the Spectre is genuinely not trying to hurt the delicate little creature. It isn’t a skinsuit. It doesn’t deserve pain.  
  
It appears to _ like _ pain, however, because a moment after the robot’s metal mouth has clamped down on its tender flesh, the hologram is cumming, shooting jets of holographic seed across its belly for the third time that night.  
  
_ God, this cute little thing has more energy than the kid with the metal legs. _  
  
Revenant pulls back from its throat so he can watch it writhe, sobbing out his name again, so loud this time that the skinsuits can probably hear it all the way back on the dropship. The robot doesn’t particularly give a fuck what they think of this little tryst, however. Whatever they think of him after this, it was worth it just to have the little pretend-skin crying beneath him, covered in its own cum.

He brings their lips together, swallowing the soft cries that escape that pretty mouth with every jerk of his hips.  
  
“So beautiful…” the decoy sighs into his mouth, evidently having finally regained the ability to speak.  
  
Revenant growls back, but it’s not really words, per se. Still, it’s a warning. 

_ Stop lying to me, please… _

Its bottom lip is still shooting tiny sparks that bounce off the Revenant’s metal mouth with a pleasant sort of sting. When he pulls back, he feels something scrape a little paint off his bottom lip. Something rather sharp.  
  
“Oh no!” the precious little thing squeaks, covering its mouth with one hand and peering up at him nervously, those big eyes full of needless concern. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
Revenant laughs, because hurting him is genuinely impossible, but he gasps when he pulls the decoy’s hand away and sees two sharp, shiny fangs peeking out from behind those succulent lips.  
_  
_ _ Wait--what the fuck? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Well that’s...uh... interesting. _  
  
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” the poor thing blurts out, voice high-pitched and anxious.

Revenant groans as it tightens up around him with anxiety.  
  
_ Fuck, how do you feel this fucking good? _

“I c-can’t really control it! It j-just kinda...happens, sometimes. They just pop out when I’m, um…” the hologram trails off, entire face flushing with embarrassment.  
  
“When you’re what?” Revenant asks, slowing the relentless bucking of his hips to a teasing, torturous roll. He realizes he doesn’t sound like himself, that his voice has gone ragged and shaky and _ weak _ he can’t explain why.  
  
“When--when I’m...um, really excited,” the decoy mumbles, looking away. “Or s-something, uh, f-feels really good.”  
  
_ Yeah, you gonna tell Daddy what a bad influence I am? _  
  
“And right now,” the Robot purrs, thumbing the decoy’s sparking lip and distantly wondering how long fuckable holograms have been a thing, because he has _ clearly _ been missing out. “You’re excited?”  
  
“I c-c-can’t help it!” the hologram protests weakly, clearly humiliated. “I--you--you’re just so _ pretty…” _  
  
_ God, stop saying that. _  
  
Revenant groans, and every single part of him wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he feels _ good. _ The decoy feels good. Its words feel good, too, even though they’re lies.  
  
“See? You’re not a monster,” the decoy says quietly, reaching up to stroke the Spectre’s cheekbone. “I am.”  
  
It bares its teeth in an adorable failed attempt to look ferocious. Then it licks its lips with a cheeky little grin, squeaking when it’s promptly yanked forcefully onto the robot’s metal cock again half a second later.  
  
_ “Fuck, _ little one,” the Revenant gasps, mouthing at the hologram’s throat as he fucks into it with increasing desperation. The sweet little thing just feels so damn _ good, _ and the things coming out of that little fanged mouth are going to end him, he’s sure of it. Hopefully for good.

“You’re not a monster, sweetheart,” Revenant grunts, pulling back to get a better view of the ease with which his cock is sliding into the poor thing’s abused little hole. “You’re just getting fucked by one.”

It’s puffy and pink, the ring of muscle stretched tightly around the Spectre’s steel cock, still leaking little globs of blue cum from the killing machine’s last orgasm. He slips a finger between the beautiful creature’s swollen, sparking lips, feeling the tip of one of those sharp little fangs with his thumb.  
  
_ God, why is that so fucking hot? _

_ Wonder what the story is there. Daddy Dearest probably has fuckin’ prosthetics or some shit. Skinsuit teeth aren’t supposed to do that. Shit, maybe synthskin just programmed it into this little guy. Park is a kinky little shit like that… _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Ngh, I wonder what they look like together... _  
  
_ “Mmm, _ but I mean it! You’re not a monster, either,” the decoy moans around the metal intrusion in its mouth. “You’re a _ masterpiece.” _  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
Revenant cums almost as if on command, spilling into the holopilot’s twin for the third time that evening and burying his faceplate in its shoulder. He can’t bear to let it see that drops of blue liquid are leaking from his eyes in addition to his dick. 

_ Nghhh, how are you real? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Oh, right. You’re not. _

_ Well, hey, even better. _

The decoy makes a soft little noise when the robotic assassin pulls out of him, leaving a pool of blue liquid beneath them both that slowly soaks into the sheets.  
  
Revenant rolls off to the side, collapsing onto his back beside the impossibly-fuckable little creature next to him.  
  
“Jesus,” Revenant sighs, addressing no one in particular, and wondering how he can feel so out of breath when he doesn’t have any lungs. “Jesus _ fuck, _ kid.”  
  
The decoy giggles, rolling onto his belly and kicking his legs up in the air behind him, crossing his ankles and resting his chin on his hands where his fingers are laced together. He says nothing, just gazes at the metal assassin with those pretty doe eyes, blinking a few times.  
  
Feeling oddly exposed, Revenant reaches into one of the pouches on his chest, retrieving the pack of cigarettes from within. He generally doesn’t smoke indoors -- he may be robotic, but he isn’t nose-blind. This isn’t the dropship, though, it has an open air design and there’s always a breeze. Also, if the skinsuits don’t like it, they can eat a metal dick.  
  
Revenant places a cigarette between his lips, then holds the pack out to the decoy, who quickly shakes his head, wrinkling his nose.  
  
_ Why are you so goddamn cute? Seriously, stay away from me. I’m gonna end up corrupting your fuckin’ hard drive. _  
  
Once he’s lit it with the little torch hidden in his thumb, the Spectre leans back against the dented headboard, inhaling deeply. The decoy just watches for a moment, then reaches out and pulls the hand not holding a cigarette closer to his face, turning it over in his own hands as he inspects it closely. Revenant chuckles at the way the decoy’s mouth pops open when it watches him rotate his wrist all the way around in its socket. Then it pulls his hand back, leaning forward and pressing those pretty lips against the sensor in the center of the robot’s palm. Something about the sweetness of the gesture makes his chest ache.  
  
Okay, fine. It makes his dick ache, too.

He runs an unnaturally-long artificial finger along the hologram’s jaw.  
  
“I wish there was more time to spend with you,” the Spectre murmurs, surprised at his own candidness. He’s not sure why this one is so easy to be around. Maybe because he’s not really a skinsuit. Technically.

_ Yeah. Probably that. _

The hologram gives him a funny look.  
  
“We have all the time you want!” it says excitedly. “The holoemitters on this ship are only off when we go to sleep.”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Me and the rest of Daddy’s decoys,” the hologram replies, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to say.  
  
Revenant groans at the absurdity of it all -- the filthy nickname itself, and the fact that the more he hears it, the more it turns him on.  
  
“I see…” the Simulacrum purrs, stubbing the cigarette out on the H on the back of his handplate and flicking it into the trashcan across the room. “You don’t think Daddy and his little friends will interrupt us, eventually? I could fuck you for _ hours, _ little one.”  
  
The decoy turns bright red, like what he’s just heard is _ scandalous, _ like he didn’t just finish getting fucked in the ass thirty seconds before, and as if that cute little ass wasn’t currently leaking synthetic cum at that very moment.  
  
_ God, why are you so fucking cute?! _

“So...um,” the sweet little thing starts, then stops, looking anywhere but into the robot’s glowing eyes. “I was just. Um. Wondering. If...uh, if--d-does--do things, um, that f-feel good to humans...do they all feel good to you, too? Like um, I mean--”  
  
The decoy isn’t sure what he means, apparently, because he doesn’t seem capable of finishing his sentence, and those sweet little cheeks are blushing an even deeper shade of red now. He’s staring at the Spectre’s cock, still slick from the night’s activities. That little pink tongue darts out to lick the lip that’s still sparking occasionally.  
  
_ Oh, you little tease. _

_ Fuck, are you sure you really want to-- _  
  
The decoy is sure, apparently, because instead of waiting for an answer, the curious little thing swallows down every inch of steel, then struggles to swallow around the base of the Revenant’s cock, which still hasn’t shown any signs of disappearing back into the Spectre’s pelvic unit.  
  
“Fuck yes, oh my _ god…” _ the metal assassin groans. He hadn’t expected the relatively innocent creature to be so good at this particular activity.  
  
_ I gotta stop underestimating him, fuckin’ hell… _  
  
It’s barely a minute before the robot’s on the verge of cumming, _ again. _ Being trapped in a robotic body may be a nightmare, but it has its perks, too. So does fucking another synthetic person. Stamina is never an issue, and one can conceivably carry on until one party gets bored. Revenant’s not sure he’ll ever get bored of cumming into, onto, and just generally in the direction of this sweet little creature.  
  
“Holy _ fuck, _ little one…”  
  
_ Where the fuck did you learn to suck cock like this? Jesus! _

The innocent little thing is drooling all over him, moaning around him as its throat bulges slightly from the girth of the massive cock that’s buried in it, but it isn’t slowing down. The decoy never seems to run out of eagerness or curiosity, and the Spectre is utterly mesmerized by the sight of his dick disappearing between those soft, sweet lips.  
  
“Fuck yeah, just like that…”

_ “Mmmmnnngh,” _ the decoy hums around him.

_ Christ, does this one even have a gag reflex? Shit! _

  
\---  
  
**Elliott 4:23PM:** Hi. I need help reacting to something.  
**Renee 4:24PM: ** Uh, what?  
**Elliott 4:24PM: ** I’m on the BB. Narrowly avoided walking in on that...thing...fucking my decoy just now.  
**Renee 4:24PM:** WHAT?  
**Elliott 4:25PM:** Murder robot. Fucking my decoy. On the Boyfriend Boat.  
**Renee 4:25PM:** Holy SHIT. Which decoy? Is it okay???  
**Elliott 4:26PM:** The one that’s scared of literally everything. Pretty sure he's only ever fucked me. He was LOVING it.  
**Renee 4:26PM:** No fucking way.  
**Elliott 4:27PM:** Yes fucking way. Killbot KISSED it. And called it beautiful. And left a handprint-dent in my goddamn headboard. Oh, and I think one of them smoked a fucking cigarette in my bedroom. And there’s blue shit all over my sheets, and I think it’s robot jizz. Can robots even jizz? Is that a thing?  
**Renee 4:27PM:** ...are you high? No offense. Just asking.  
**Elliott 4:28PM:** I fucking wish. I bailed immediately, because I value my life. I will NEVER un-see this.

\----

  
After delicately moving the ceiling tile to the side, Renee drops through the gap, landing silently, cat-like, on the floor of the underground lab.  
  
It’s empty, for the most part. After hours. Anyone of interest has long since gone home for the day, left their secrets here, to be guarded by security while they go visit family, pretending that human torture isn’t part of their job discription. 

_ Cognitive dissonance is a helluva drug. _  
  
She tries to avoid security, and actually manages to, for the most part. Two have to be taken down, one with her blade, the other with a swift burst of energy from the Void. Neither of them will be getting back up.  
  
She wipes the bloody kunai on a throw pillow in the reception area, then phases through the locked doors and into the laboratory itself.

They’ve long since taken their toys and gone home, she knows. The fun toys, at least. But in their haste to move the valuable tech somewhere safer, they left a great deal of evidence behind. The hard drives are wiped, the holoemitters are shattered, but the hard copies? Those are still in their file cabinets, and it only takes a single yank to snap the cheap locking mechanism and crack open the first drawer.  
  
She’s a professional, and she means to act like one, but what she finds in that file cabinet makes her seethe. 

_ Funny how the “randomly selected” subjects are all employees that know too much, or people who no one would come looking for. _  
  
That’s when the Syndicate comes in with an incredibly benevolent offer: _ “Oh, you can’t afford your kid’s meds? Can’t afford your therapy? Here, let us help. We’ll do it for free. They’ll be taken care of.” _ _  
_  
_ Yeah, they get taken care of alright. Forever. _

One file catches her eye. It stands out from the others because it’s covered in dried blood and looks beat up, like it's much older than the rest of the data it's been stored with. Renee pulls it from where it’s wedged between two much thinner manilla folders. She opens it, and there’s a photo of a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes. 

_ Bingo. _

An employee, but not the kind they normally do this shit to -- he’s not a maintenance guy who stumbled in on something they should never have seen, or a disgruntled scientist who is trying to get out of their contract. His record is flawless. They’ve all but labeled him employee of the month.

She’s not quite sure why, but looking at his photograph makes her incredibly uncomfortable.

There’s a name, and she swears she saw it when she first opened the folder, but that can’t be right, because it says [REDACTED] now.

Trick of the light, probably.

_ 'Earliest known Revenant upload was in 2420.' _

_ Damn, I had no idea he was that old. _  
  
It seems like some pages are missing. Like, a _ lot _ of pages.  
  
_ God dammit. _  
  
The ones that aren’t missing are heavily redacted.  
  
_ What the fuck is the point of keeping them locked in here if there’s nothing in them? Ugh. _  
  
One of the few pages not blocked out with multiple black rectangles is an e-mail exchange, but it doesn’t seem like either party is the employee in question. 

  
_ **TO:** [REDACTED] _ _  
_ _ **FROM:** [REDACTED] _ _  
_ _ **SUBJ:** Noise Complaint _

_ Yo. You guys gotta fucking do something about the screaming. Some sort of sound-proofing, something, I don’t give a shit, just do it. Nobody can focus down here. Seriously, it never fucking stops. You try spending 8 hours a day doing data entry while a haunted robot screams bloody murder the entire time. _

_ It is NOT happy in this body, the program is only stable because of the emotional dampener, but that has side effects, too. I don’t think Spectres are really built for this shit, you know? Simulacrum’s one thing, this is...something else. Anyway, I thought this was supposed to be a temporary vessel, not long-term. Weren’t Bioengineering and the folks in Dynamics supposed to have something better suited to the task by now? We can’t keep it in there forever. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ **TO:** [REDACTED] _ _  
_ _ **FROM:** [REDACTED] _ _  
_ _ **SUBJ:** RE: Noise Complaint _

_ Look, we’re doing what we can. I’ll see what I can do about soundproofing. You know how those snakes in Finance are though, so no promises. Bring earplugs and be glad it’s not your consciousness trapped in that copper-plated clusterfuck with that thing. Jesus, I used to be jealous of [REDACTED], y'know? Everybody always tells stories about how he'd singlehandedly clear a roomful of armed guards, dude made bank, was drowning in pussy...while he was alive, at least. We found some really old footage of him in combat that is fucking _ ** _insane_ ** _ , especially for how long ago this was. But god, I'm not jealous of the guy anymore. Shit freaks me the fuck out now. Can you even imagine? It’s a miracle it ever stops screaming long enough to kill shit in the first place. Hardware's old as dirt, too. That has to suck. Sometimes I wonder if he really volunteered. No way to know, I guess. Everybody involved has been dead for like, 200 years or some shit. _

_ And yeah, they’re working on a replacement, but they’re not doing it here, way too dangerous. I don’t think it’s ready yet, last I heard they were having some behavioral issues with 721, but they’ve got an understudy, apparently. Rest of the subjects didn’t show much promise, probably hard to find or create anyone or anything that can withstand that thing’s presence. I think that’s why HQ is always doing psych evals on the labcoats -- you spend too much time around that thing when it’s out of its metal prison and you’ll start to lose your fucking marbles. I dunno, I assume if a replacement vessel was ready, it would be here. You know how they are over there, shit’s always going off the rails. That dimension is fucked. Lead scientist was off her fucking rocker, kinda sounds like they never should have reinstated her after those phase-tech experiments. Apparently she snapped eventually, killed herself. Jumped off one of the landing pads at Airbase. Word around here is they salvaged her brain. _

Renee stares down at the open folder, rereading the last three sentences a few times, to make sure she's not hallucinating.

_ Killed myself? What the fuck are they-- _

There’s more, but Renee doesn’t get a chance to read it all before the file is snatched from her hands. 

Apparently she left a stray security guard alive.

_ Whoops. Goddammit. _  
  
But when Renee looks to the file-thief, it’s clear she isn’t security. The woman is relatively petite and she's not wearing a uniform.  
  
_ Who in the fuck-- _  
  
The thief darts out the door, into the hall, but Renee is faster, and it’s barely one second before she has the woman pinned to the floor beneath her, hands around her throat.  
  
It’s kind of a shame it has to be this way, because she’s pretty. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes that burn with unquenched rage. 

_ Brave, too, coming in here like that. _

Renee’s mint-green gloves are around her throat and she doesn’t even have the decency to look scared. Renee reaches for the thief’s backpack to retrieve the file that lies within, but in the split second her attention is off the person she's pinned down, the woman beneath her wriggles an arm free and buries a knife deep in Renee’s throat.  
  
She falls back in shock, instinctively reaching up to pull at the knife that’s lodged in her neck, and the thief takes the opportunity to scramble out from under her, backpack in hand, gun drawn and pointed at Renee. Renee goes to wrench the gun from the woman’s hand, but the file-stealing little bitch pulls back just in time, causing Renee’s fingers to close around the little charm attached to the gun, instead of the weapon itself. A brief tug-of-war follows, then the thin metal chain snaps, separating them. The thief runs. Renee’s going to follow her, but she can’t, because she’s distracted by her hand. Not what’s in it. No, it’s not the silly little silver charm she pulled from the woman’s weapon that terrifies her...it’s her hand itself.  
  
She drops the gun charm. The tiny, silver wolf’s head makes a delicate clinking sound as it hits the floor. Her heart stops as she stares, open-mouthed, at the palm of her hand.  
  
Gone are the white sleeves of her bodysuit, gone are the mint-green gloves. Her palm is black, her fingers bright red.  
  
_ That can’t be right. What-- _  
  
That's not what's shocking, though. What's shocking is that her hands are _ made of metal. _  
  
_ Oh god, oh-- _

Tentatively, she flexes her fingers, makes a fist, hand shaking. She rotates her wrist a little, then a little bit more, then a _ lot, _ a full 360 degrees.  
  
_ No! How--oh god, please, no! _  
  
She falls forward onto her hands, and what she sees reflected back at her in the shiny, polished tiles of the floor beneath her metal palms is even more horrifying than her hands.

It’s a face, but it's not her face. It can’t be. The...thing looking back at her has skin as black as night, a mask of whiteish-grey highlighting the middle of its terrifying visage. Its eyes are dark, black sclera with purple irises that glow so bright she can see the violet light emanating from them as it reflects off the unpainted metal bits connecting each of her phalanges. A few strands of purple, rubbery synthetic hair hang in front of her face.  
  
There’s a blade in her throat, she remembers, yet she feels nothing. Somehow, the too-white floor beneath her isn’t covered in blood. She grimaces as she wrenches the data knife from where it’s lodged in the side of her neck, praying for a flood of crimson. Instead, there are sparks. 

_ Fuck! _  
  
Her reflection flickers, then the violet-eyed monstrosity is gone, and she is back in her clean white bodysuit with the mask and the gloves, which she promptly rips off. She’s only slightly relieved to find that her skin is entirely human again, and it isn’t broken where the knife pierced her neck.

It doesn’t make any sense.  
  
Hands trembling, she raises the knife and plunges it back into her neck.  
  
There is no pain, and more sparks fly, skittering across the well-polished floor. A strange blue liquid is oozing out of the wound now.  
  
Worst of all, when she looks down at that floor once more, the monster staring back at her has purple eyes again.  
  
_ NO! No no no no please no fuck fuck ohgod-- _

**HELLO VALUED HAMMOND CUSTOMER,** **  
** **  
** **IF YOU ARE SEEING THIS MESSAGE, YOUR SPECTRE UNIT HAS SHUT DOWN DUE TO AN UNEXPECTED PROCESSING ERROR.**

**IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO REPORT THIS ERROR TO HAMMOND ROBOTICS, PLEASE CLICK “SUBMIT.” THIS IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED IF YOUR UNIT HOSTS A SIMULACRUM.** **  
** **  
** **OTHERWISE, PRESS THE “H” ON YOUR UNIT’S HANDPLATE TO CONTINUE.** **  
** **  
** **THANK YOU FOR HELPING US BUILD A KINDER, GENTLER HAMMOND ROBOTICS.**

"No!"

Renee gasps, jolting awake and just barely managing to keep herself from tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor of her room on the dropship.  
  
_ What in the fuck--I don’t… _  
  
She’s sure she’s lost her mind. The dreams don’t even make any fucking sense anymore.  
  
Leaping from the bed, she snatches her kunai from where she’s wedged it between the mattress and bedframe. Tip-toeing to the bathroom, she feels a little guilty.

She’d promised Elliott she wouldn’t do this again, but it’s different this time. This time it’s only because she needs to know.  
  
The knife’s edge bites at her wrist, slicing through the skin in a single downward stroke.  
  
A moment later, the wound has bloomed with red, crimson streaking down her arm and dripping from her elbow. She’s never been so relieved to see her own blood in her life.  
  
_ Breathe. It was a dream. It’s not real, it’s not-- _

“Renee?” comes a voice from behind her. She looks up to see Hyeon reflected in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe with his hands hidden in the pockets of his pajama pants. He looks concerned. 

_ God dammit. _

She’d forgotten he was there. She’d spent so long sleeping alone, it was easy to forget Hyeon had spent the night.  
  
“Are you..okay?” his gaze drifts from her face to her wrist, and his eyes widen. “Fuck, what--Renee, did you do this to yourself?”  
  
“It’s not what it looks like! It’s--I, uh--” she stammers, realizing that _ “Oh, don't worry, I'm not hurting myself. I'm just making sure I’m not a murderbot with sparks and blue goo where my blood should be” _ would probably be an unsatisfactory answer if she wanted to come off not-crazy.

It suddenly occurs to her that what she just did was pointless anyway, because she’s seen her blood a million times before. Even if she were only programmed to _ think _ she was seeing blood, surely her friend in the cave wouldn’t be able to suck it from her. And Nox probably would have mentioned if he’d jabbed those needles in her arm and found wires instead of veins.  
  
_ Of course you’re not a fucking robot, you idiot _. 

“Renee…” the hacker starts, stepping forward and gently reaching out to inspect her wrist. “Please tell me.”

_ Ugh. How the fuck do I even explain this? _

  
\-- 

  
“You’d be surprised,” Hyeon says as he finishes passing the dermal regenerator over the spot where she’d wounded herself. “I’ve had some strange dreams lately, too. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing you did if I had one like that.”

“Yeah, it was stupid though,” she sighs. “I wasn’t thinking. Anyway, please don’t tell Elliott. I promised him I wasn’t...doing this shit anymore. And I’m not! Today there were extenuating circumstances. Like needing to be sure I’m not one of those things.”  
  


Hyeon nods. “Only if you promise to keep your knife away from that pretty skin.”

Renee rolls her eyes, but she’s suddenly blushing and looking away, because for some reason, looking at Hyeon makes it worse. He turns to place the skin-repairing device on her bedside table, and when he looks back at her, something about his expression makes her swallow anxiously.

“Forgive me, it is none of my business, but I have to ask -- does he know?” Hyeon murmurs the question softly. “About us, I mean. Your friend in the cave.”

Renee sighs. 

“Yes, he knows. I’m not a _ total _ fucking asshole, despite what you might think,” she pauses for a moment, unsure if she should continue. “I think he’s afraid to fuck me, to be honest. Thinks he’s gonna lose control and eat me or some stupid shit. Plus he, uh, seems to enjoy watching you and Elliott. I think he’s kind of hoping I’ll bang Elliott, so he can watch and enjoy it without worrying about hurting me."

Park’s jaw drops.

“So he can _ what?” _

“I just told you! So he can enjoy it without--”

“No, Renee,” Park interrupts. “What did you just say about him watching us?”

_ Oh shit. Does he not know? What the fuck, Elliott! _

“Erm...did--did Elliott not tell you?”

“Tell me _ what?” _

_ Well, fuck. Sorry Elliott. _

“About the...the fucking mind-melding or whatever? No?" she groans, covering her face with her hands. "Tae Joon can see shit through Elliott's eyes. And, um, hear things. Elliott apparently thinks pretty loud, especially when you guys are--”

“He _ watches _ us?” Hyeon sounds absolutely scandalized, and a stream of what she’s sure are very rude words spill out of him in Korean.

“I thought you knew! I thought Elliott told you! Tae Joon says they talk sometimes…” she trails off, stopping herself before she can say anything else.

“They can _ communicate? _ Across dimensions?”

“I guess!” she snaps, not sure why either of them are raising their voices. “I don’t know, dude! Ask Elliott, he’s _ your _boyfriend. Anyway, my point was that he's cool with me...y'know…"

It takes considerable effort not to end her sentence with _ 'banging you six ways from Solace,' _ or _ 'being a dumb slut in every dimension.' _

Hyeon is quiet for a very long time. When he finally speaks, he sounds less furious than she expected.

“And your friend...he _ enjoys _ watching?”

"I mean, his dead boyfriend looks exactly like your not-dead boyfriend. Maybe cut him a little slack in the voyeurism department," Renee snaps, suddenly feeling a little defensive.

"His ridiculous appetite is what's responsible for any voyeurism in the first place," Hyeon growls. "It is wise that he chooses not to test his lack of self control with you in his bed."

"Seriously? Dude, you've been fucking a vampire longer than I have and you're still alive!" 

"Elliott's different," Hyeon insists, folding his arms across his chest. "He can control himself. Your friend in the cave cannot. He nearly killed me."

"Oh come on," she scoffs. "You brought a charge rifle to a fangfight, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen? It's your own damn fault you got FUBAR'd, running in there like Silva runs into a fight with no backup before his teammates even have a weapon."

"He can heal his own organs and is strong enough to snap me in half," Hyeon replies, narrowing his eyes. "It wasn't exactly a fair fight before the charge rifle got involved. He’s kind of freakishly-strong, I thought you of all people would be aware of that. What was I supposed to do, arm wrestle him?"

Renee groans. "You were supposed to _ not _ barge into my portals to try and beat up immortal beings from other dimensions like a fucking idiot, for starters."

Hyeon laughs. 

"Okay, fair enough. Though if he ever hurts you, I can't promise not to get myself killed defending your honor. Maybe ask him to go easy on the teeth next time," he replies, rubbing at his scarred shoulder with an exaggerated wince. "He's dangerous."

_ "Pfft," _ she scoffs, rolling her eyes again. "You wanna talk about dangerous? Let's talk about that thing that just moved into the room next to yours. Tae Joon is like baby bat compared to that fucking monstrosity. I can't believe they're letting it live on the ship with us…anyway, you were defending _ Elliott's _ honor. You didn't know what I was up to back then anyway."

"That's true," Hyeon murmurs softly, and something in his expression has changed. He leans into her space, those strange metallic fingertips coming up to stroke her cheek before he continues. "But I will blindly and foolishly defend your honor, too, any day of the week...especially if it means I get to keep this lovely creature in my bed."

His fingers drift over her throat, then trace an exposed collar bone. Renee shivers, wondering when it got so hard to breathe.

"Deal," she says, feeling rather more giggly than she had only moments before. Giggly and flustered. "But technically, we're in _ my _ bed."

He leans forward, tilts her chin up, brings her lips against his own, and kisses her with such intensity, she's sure she never knew how to breathe in the first place. When he pulls back, she's gasping.

"That is also true," Hyeon purrs, looking rather like he's up to something. "But I am sure with a flick of your wrist, we could just as easily be in mine instead."

Renee's blushing, heart kicking against her ribcage like a rapid-firing flatline with no stock to steady it. Hyeon's leaned into her again, this time trailing gentle kisses up the side of her neck. She shivers, skin erupting into gooseflesh when she feels his breath against her ear.

"I should warn you, though," he continues, that gorgeous voice sounding like honey, like velvet and dark chocolate and everything else that is sweet and delicious. "My bed, my rules." 

The look on his face is pure wickedness when he pulls away once more.

_ "Mmnnn, _ and that means what, exactly?" she hums, leaning forward so he can't get away.

"That means we need a safe word, firstly," he murmurs into her shoulder, pausing to press his lips to the spot where it meets her neck, right where the data knife had been wedged in that horrible nightmare.

Hyeon has a way of making said horrible nightmare feel very far away, and she's grateful. She needs to forget.

"It also means we'll need to borrow that blindfold you got Elliott for Christmas," he whispers. She can feel him smile against her shoulder when she shivers at his words.

_ Oh _ ** _hell_ ** _ yes. _

_ God. No wonder Elliott can barely stop fucking you long enough to shoot people lately. It's a miracle he ever leaves the bed, Jesus Christ. _

She grins. "Oh, yeah. The blindfold. The gift that keeps on giving."

\--

“No weapons allowed on the dropship,” they said, ignoring the fact that the newest addition to the team was literally just a weapon with an attitude problem.

_ [instant message transcripts, intercepted from Talos relay #18. Authors unknown, suspected ties to Syndicate and Hammond personnel] _

**A:** This is a mess. I thought we said no fucking weapons, we have plenty of problems on that ship as it is! You guys just happen to forget about the murder machine that just moved in? Shit, dude. Oh, and the one with the bird has a fucking armory in their bedroom. Is that a caged flyer, too? Hard to tell from the feed.

**B:** Better a flyer than a prowler, I guess. Jesus Christ. Look, I don’t know why you’re surprised. You guys also happen to miss the chick who’s always walking around with a knife made out of, like, dark matter and witchcraft?? Have you seen the wounds that thing causes? She’s who put that scar on Witt’s face, y’know.

**A:** No, I didn’t forget her. Have you SEEN her? Shit, I would literally pay her to beat me up, couldn’t forget that pretty face if I tried. Also, HQ never shuts up about her. Like, ever. But look, we have bigger fish to fry -- we have a ship full of idiots who are armed to the teeth, plus whatever inevitable war crime Nox is brewing up with those fucking spiders. One of those things is gonna get loose and bite somebody one day, seriously.

**B:** You forgot the guy who is piloting a technically-sentient electromagnetic bomb with his freaking BRAIN.

**A:** Thanks, you ass. I’ll add that to the list. Fuck, I TOLD you we should have bugged the bedrooms earlier.

**B:** I’m positive drone guy’s who smuggled that missing charge rifle out of the ring, but Cheryl thinks I’m full of it. Did you know the drone can talk to him? Like, in his head. I heard him having a one-way conversation with it in Korean the other day. So freaky. I wonder if it can read his mind, y’know? Accessing its memory archives might be a task worth undertaking. Also, fuck you. I’ve seen all I EVER need to see from that feed in the locker room, and you do NOT want to witness what goes on in Nox’s bedroom. Trust me, whatever horrible mental image just popped in your head when I said that? It’s worse IRL. Way worse.

**A:** No one gives a fuck who Nox is groping. I want to know what the kid with synthetic skin does in his spare time. Same with our, uh, former employee. We cannot have those two getting too close. Bad news for everybody.

**B:** No kidding. As much as I’d love to tell you all the dirty details, I can’t, because I don’t have any. Camera in Kim’s room was detected and ripped down immediately, because of course it fucking was. The one in killbot’s quarters is still up, but you can’t see shit through the static and flickering, and nobody in IT is brave or well-paid enough to go up there to try and fix it. All we’ve got is Witt’s feed, and while it’s highly entertaining, it’s not very informative. We need more. HQ has questions. (Also Nox isn’t the groper, he’s the grope-ee. Somehow that’s worse than what I initially imagined.)

**A:** I’ve got questions too, man. Questions that need answers.

**B:** Questions like what? Seriously, dude. You do NOT want to know what goes down in Nox’s bedroom...

**A:** Not Nox, you fucking idiot. I have some standards, FFS.

**B:** Well you had me fooled. WTF is it, then? Wait, lemme guess -- you wanna know what color portal chick’s panties are.

**A:** Hey man, you brought it up first. I always kind of assumed they’re purple or black or something. Anyway, my actual question is far more important than portal panties. The answer decides whether I win this 1800AC bet the guys in Surveillance are running.

**B:** Fine, shoot. But hurry TF up, I don’t have all day. I’m supposed to be watching the feeds right now.

**A:** It’s about Kim, or whatever his name is.

**B:** Well, spit it out.

**A:** Does he sleep in the jacket? I thought no at first, but it literally never comes off. I’m starting to think he showers in it.

**B:** No, he doesn’t sleep in the jacket unless he’s sleeping alone. Which doesn’t seem to happen often.

**A:** Aww, bummer. He’s kind of cute.

**B:** Bro, you need to get laid. You’re even thirstier than Witt lately, and almost as desperate. Get a grip, my man.

\----

Only a week has passed since Tae Joon last saw Elliott, and already, everything is terrible.

_ Ssibal! I knew I should have gone with him… _

Elliott -- who is with Renee, at Evelyn’s -- is now quarantined on Solace for the foreseeable future. The rest of the Legends, naturally, are quarantined to World’s Edge. They’re still playing matches, for now -- after all, what else is there to do? But there’s an uneasiness in the air that is driving Park’s own paranoia to new heights. It probably goes without saying that the loneliness is getting to him, too. But what else was he supposed to do? Visiting Elliott’s mother on thanksgiving was one thing. Going along for a weekend trip would mean explaining it to Mystik, who would then murder him herself for being such an idiot in the fist play.

Criminal superhackers running from the Syndicate do not have fucking boyfriends.

Renee has a boyfriend, however, and now it’s time for Park to make good on his promise to go feed the idiot. Hopefully this quarantine situation would die down soon, because he certainly hadn’t signed up for more than one or two feeding sessions, max.

Park hadn’t expected things to go quite like this.

“Look at you, you’re pathetic,” he seethes into the creature’s face, tightening his grip around its throat. “You’d fuck anything that walked into this cave, wouldn’t you?”

The vampire can only make a soft sort of choking noise, but Park knows -- he can feel it, feel the ugly truth pressed against his thigh. He knows that look, too, because it’s his own fucking face. The monster might be scared, but deep down, somewhere, he _ likes _ it.

_ Disgusting. _

And though it’s not something he will _ ever _ willingly admit -- not to himself, nor to anyone else -- Park likes it a little bit, too.

And that just makes him angrier.

“Have you always been this desperate, or did that start with the blood-sucking?” he hisses, leaning in and making the other man flinch, like he's expecting him to do something worse.

When the vampire doesn’t answer, he growls angrily, shoving a knee roughly between the beast’s thighs and pressing up against its erection. The monstrous thing fucking _ moans, _ and it only serves to fuel the Crypto's rage. He doesn’t know why the creature looks so _ fucking scared _ of him all of a sudden, and he knows Renee would probably kill him if she saw what he was doing to it, but he can’t care about any of that. He’s too high on the fury of finally getting some fucking revenge on the hideous thing for all the terrible, selfish things it's done. That _ he's _ done.

“Filthy,” he sneers, eyeing himself with disgust.

The demon shudders, gazing back at him with wide, blue eyes.

“Can’t ever keep those fucking teeth to yourself,” Park spits, his other hand coming up to grip the monster’s synthetic jaw tightly, forcing its mouth open so he can inspect those awful fangs. 

They’re always out, it seems -- not like Elliott’s, whose fangs descend only when he’s...in the mood for a snack. 

_ I guess this greedy fuck is always in the mood for a snack. _

For some fucking stupid reason the thing isn’t even fighting back. It’s not struggling at all, just looking shocked and scared and _ sad, _ and that pisses him off even more because he wants it to _ fight, _ wants it to give him an excuse to smash that pretty, frightening face into the wall of the cave and make it _ pay. _

It’s mocking him. It has to be. It’s a hundred times stronger than him, stronger even than Elliott, and he knows it must hate him at least as much as he hates it. 

_ Why the fuck won’t you do something? Come on, you coward. _

“You were so much more talkative the last time we met, so much angrier,” Park murmurs, trying to keep his voice even. "What’s the matter, bloodsucker? Bat got your tongue?”

When it doesn’t respond, Park surges forward with a growl, grinding his thigh roughly up between the beast's legs, where its cock is still throbbing and trapped in its pants. That finally gets a reaction, but it’s not the one he was looking for. The hideous thing lets its eyes fall shut, rutting up against his thigh with a pathetic, tortured cry.

“You’re _ disgusting,” _ Park growls, squeezing the demon’s throat a little harder before finally releasing it and taking a step back to pull his own shirt over his head. “Now get it over with. I have better things to do than let you chew on my throat.”

“I...I can’t bite you there…” it says, those blue eyes going even wider.

The monster is trembling as it looks at him. Its voice is uneven, full of trepidation. Then Park realizes what it’s staring at: the thick, jagged scars tearing across his shoulder.

A bitter peal of laughter escapes him at the fucking absurdity of it protesting against what it had _ clearly _ enjoyed doing to him the first time they met.

_ “Miahnhamnida,” _ the creature murmurs softly, looking down at the floor.

Park finally snaps. 

He seizes a fistful of the creature’s hair and grunts _ “Fuck _ you, you _ did this _ to me. You're lucky it didn't turn me, too. I'm not quite as forgiving as Elliott. I'd rip that ghastly throat out just like he should have.”

The vampire gives him a piteous look.

_ “Jebal, _ I am so sor--” it's cut off when his hand closes around its ugly, gilded throat again.

_ “Jilal! Gae bbool,” _ Park snaps, “I’ve had enough of your lies. I should let you starve, _ gesekgi.” _

“Please,” the beastly thing gasps. “Don’t.”

The more it speaks, the more fury he feels twisting up inside him, coiling tightly in his belly and begging to be released.

_ Why aren't you fighting back? Do something, damn you! _

Then he thinks about its fangs in the side of Elliott's throat. He thinks about how it held him down and sucked him dry and then, because that evidently wasn't enough to sate its appetite, it fucking_ touched _him. And now it's sunk those filthy fangs into Renee, too, and for some reason neither of them are even mad at him for it. Hell, it had gotten its fangs into Crypto himself and gotten away with what was almost murder. And Elliott and Renee didn’t want revenge, for some unbelievably stupid reason.

That's all fine, though. It really is. Park is furious enough for all three of them.

“That’s all this mouth is good for, isn’t it? Lying and hurting people.” Park sneers, gripping the creature's jaw again. “You might have our friends fooled, but you can’t lie to me. I know you. I _ am _you.” 

He presses his palm hard against the bulge between the beast’s legs, relishing the pained cry that’s elicited when he squeezes it roughly. 

“I know what a monster you are, Tae Joon,” Park breathes, leaning in close. “You can't hide it from me.”

His monstrous lookalike shudders, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You don’t deserve another fucking drop of my blood, _ goemul, _ but I’m not doing this for you,” Park grits out.

_ Renee, you owe me for this. Please make all IOU's payable to my dick. _

The beast looks relieved, unable to resist licking its lips at the mention of getting its fangs back into him. The sight makes Park's stomach lurch, because for a moment, it nearly had him convinced -- convinced it wasn't all that bad, convinced it maybe felt a _ little _ guilty for ruining all of their lives. But the second the subject of dinner came up, that glimmer of faux-innocence was replaced with a desperate, predatory gleam. Bloodlust.

“Not so fast,” Park snaps when the monster licks its lips again. “Get on your fucking knees. Monsters don’t eat for free.”

The creature’s jaw actually drops.

“Don’t play coy with me,” Park seethes. “We both know you like to watch. You don't get to do that for free either, monster.”

The fucking thing is_ blushing _ now, cheeks blooming a deep shade of violet.

“I am s-sorry,” it stammers, voice barely above a whisper and eyes downcast.

Park fists a handful of its hair and pulls. 

“No you aren’t. And I’m glad, I’m glad that you watch. I want you to hear every last gasp, every moan, every single word of him fucking _begging_ for my cock,” he sneers, inches from the monster’s face. “Now _get on your_ _fucking knees,_ bloodsucker.”

Still blushing, the creature immediately acquiesces, kneeling before him.

"Pathetic," Park breathes, giving its hair another rough yank so the beast will look up at him. It lets out a pained sort of sound but doesn't fight or resist. Of course it doesn't.

_ Fucking slut. _

He lets go of it briefly to unbuckle his belt, tugging down his pants to free his aching cock and give it a few strokes, groaning at the friction. Then he threads the fingers of his other hand back through the creature’s dark hair, gripping it tightly once more.

“Open,” he commands, trying not to think about the fact that he _ likes _ what’s in front of him, that it makes his dick hard, seeing the beast follow orders, seeing it submit. The shame is easy to ignore once he’s filling its mouth, groaning at the way the sides of the creature’s fangs graze his cock with each thrust. 

_ Fucking hell, why is his mouth so hot? _

The rest of the monster is unnaturally cold, but the throat wrapped around Park’s cock feels like its owner has a high-grade fever.

His grip on its hair tightens further when he sees how it’s looking at him, bound and kneeling before him. It’s gazing up at him with a look so purely submissive, it almost reminds him of Elliott’s decoy.

_ “Jal hasseo, _ bloodsucker," he groans, thrusting into its throat and feeling it constrict around him deliciously. "Didn’t think you’d be able to follow directions.”

_ “Mmmmgh,” _ is all the beast can manage. 

_ Good, _ Park thinks bitterly. _ I don’t want to hear you do anything but choke on this dick. _

He yanks its head away momentarily. Gasping, he then leans down to spit in the creature’s open mouth before filling it with his cock again, thrusting hard into the back of its throat.

“Just like I thought,” Park grunts, hoping he doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels. “This mouth isn’t good for anything but sucking my cock.”

The beast squeezes its eyes shut, moaning around him.

_ Whore. _

He’s not sure which version of himself the thought is directed at. Both, maybe.

“Fuck,” he hisses, thrusting harder.

He's not sure if the tears that have begun leaking down the monster's violet cheeks are the result of gagging or actual sadness, but he doesn't care, because it doesn't matter. Either way, their presence only serves to make his dick harder.

_ Fuck, he’s so good at this. Why is he so good at this? _

_ Shit, am I this good at this? _

"This is what you want, isn't it? This why you're like this," he grunts, fucking roughly into his own throat. "You hope if you're--_ ssibal, fuck-- _if you piss people off enough, they'll come back here and give your pathetic ass some attention."

He must be right, because the beast just whimpers, taking him deeper.

"Greedy _ slut," _ he groans, tightening his grip in its hair when it pulls back and begins to tease the head of his cock with that wicked forked tongue.

The noise the creature makes almost makes it sound like it agrees with him.

_ "Ngh, fuck, _ I'm going to cum down that ugly throat of yours, bloodsucker," Park gasps, no longer capable of keeping his voice even. "And you're going to swallow every last drop of it."

Still gripping that blue-black hair with both fists, he thrusts roughly into the back of the beast’s throat, groaning at the tightness when his body double gags around his cock. It recovers quickly though, and then that forked devil's tongue is slipping out to stroke over his balls. When he opens his eyes, the creature is gazing up at him like it wants his cum in its belly as badly as it wants his blood, and that's all it takes. Park thrusts in deep, head thunking back against the stone wall as he spills into the monster's hot throat, cumming so hard his balls ache when he's finished.

_ "Fuck," _ he gasps, yanking the creature's lips from his cock as he starts to shudder with overstimulation. "Fuck!"

When he's recovered enough to resume normal brain function, he looks down, surprised that the creature hasn't scrambled away yet -- or even more likely, tried to kill him. It's still kneeling there in the dirt, holocuffed, gazing up at him with a look that's all need, just pure desperation and want. 

_ Pathetic. _

Even in the dim candlelight, Park can see the outline of the creature's cock bulging out against its ridiculous, far-too-tight pants. He can also see that a few stray drops of his cum escaped the creature's mouth, landing on the toe of Park’s boot.

He doesn't want to feed it. He's not letting it near his throat ever again, and he damn sure isn't letting the beast feed from his thigh. He may have just let it suck him off, but feeding is...different, somehow. Only Elliott is allowed to feed from his thigh. Only Elliott is allowed to see him like that, exposed and vulnerable in every possible sense.

_ Okay, and maybe Renee...yeah, definitely her. Hnnnnng... _

He _ did _ promise to feed it, though. Renee's already going to murder him when she finds out exactly how this little batsitting adventure went. He can't leave without feeding it.

Looking down at his doppelganger and the cum it let spill from its lips onto the toe of his boot, a wicked thought occurs to him.

Shifting his leg between the monster's spread knees, he presses the sole of his boot roughly against the monster's cock.

_ "Agh!" _ comes the choked, surprised response.

The creature is gasping, mouth agape, staring down at the cumstained toe of Tae Joon's boot as he presses it down on the beast's cock. For some reason, it _ still _doesn't try to get away from him. Maybe because of the handcuffs.

But maybe not.

"I told you to swallow every last drop, _ goemul," _ Park seethes, pressing his foot down a little harder. The vampire lets out a needy little cry, cheeks flushing violet. "Clean it up. Put that filthy mouth to good use for once."

It whines, but it does as he says when he removes his foot from between its thighs, resting his boot on the ground in front of it. Hands still bound, the beast moves forward, struggling to keep its balance as it leans down to clean up the mess. Park groans when he sees that forked tongue dart out and swipe through the puddle of cum on the toe of his boot.

He's almost tempted to praise it, to stroke his fingers through that silky black hair and say _ "Jal hasseo. _ That's a good boy," but the fucking wretch doesn't deserve to hear that. It barely deserves to lick his boots clean.

Its haunting blue eyes go incredibly wide once it's finished giving him a shoe-shine. Gazing up at him, the shock is evident on its face when it sees the data knife he's procured from its hiding spot within his right boot.

The repulsive beast looks...it looks scared, almost. Which is fucking _ stupid, _ because Park is approximately 97.41% positive it could tear through those holocuffs and plunge Park's own knife right into his chest if the mood were to strike. Hell, it could kill him with its bare hands if it wanted to...

_ Why doesn't it want to? _

The creature is staring at the floor now, looking down at his boot and shifting anxiously on its knees.

It gasps when it feels the cool metal blade against its skin, but Park just flattens the blade’s smooth, flat plane against the beast’s flesh, using the knife to gently tilt the creature’s chin up so it will meet his gaze.

Its chest is heaving, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from how hard he'd fucked that awful, fanged mouth earlier. Seeing the creature -- the source of so many of his nightmares -- on its knees for him, looking scared and fucking helpless...it feels _ good. _It sends an electric thrill arcing across Tae Joon’s skin like the detonated charge of his EMP. The power makes him feel like he's high, like he's drunk on his ability to force it to obey. The heady rush of adrenaline is clouding his judgement.

He stares down into those freakishly-bright blue eyes, looking for a hint of danger, a sign of ulterior motives. But all he sees is pure desperation -- a pleading, guilty, needy look that, on anyone else, would make Park's heart ache.

But seeing it on his own face just makes him want to be even crueler.

_ God, am I this fucked in the head in every dimension or what? What is wrong with you? _

He’s not sure which of him he’s asking anymore.

Removing the knife from where he's holding it beneath the creature's chin, Park brings the blade to the upper part of the palm of his own left hand, pressing down and dragging it through his yielding, non-synthetic flesh. The moment the scent of his blood hits the air, he can see it on the creature's face: pain. Desire so strong it makes the thing ache.

_ Good. You deserve to suffer. _

"Please…" it breathes softly, utterly transfixed by the single drop of blood that's rolling down Park's wrist.

Park grimaces in disgust.

"All that unnatural strength, and yet somehow you still manage to be weaker than any mortal man I've met," he growls. "You're pathetic. Useless. Can't live your life without draining it out of other people first. Can't keep those _ fucking fangs _ out of what belongs to _ me." _

He's not even sure Elliott really belongs to him anymore, after what he did only weeks before, just disappearing on him in the night like that. Renee certainly doesn’t belong to him. But he damn sure has more of a claim to them than this blood-sucking bastard.

Several drops of blood splatter onto his boot, the same place his cum had painted only moments before, staining the white synthetic leather a deep shade of crimson. Without hesitation, the vampire leans forward again, licking the toe of Park's boot clean with a ragged moan.

"God, _ please _...please let me taste more of you…"

_ Ugh. _

"So fucking desperate. You're disgusting," Park says quietly. "You're nothing but a leech. A parasite."

"I know," the beast replies, a sort of sadness in its eyes now. "I am, I know…"

Park fists its hair with his right hand, enjoying the surprised gasp it earns him from the creature kneeling at his feet. The vampire is trembling, its chest heaving with each shaky intake of breath. 

"As long as you know, then," Crypto sneers, holding his left hand above the monster's mouth, just out of its reach. Its tongue immediately slips out, curling up and stretching out as it tries desperately to catch a drop of his blood.

"Hold _ still," _ he growls, tightening his grip in its hair to the point of pain.

He doesn't expect to hear an obedient, submissive _ "Yes sir," _ in reply, but the vampire fucking says it, and the words go straight to Park's cock the moment they enter his ears.

He groans, yanking the cave creature's head back a little further and letting a few drops of blood drip down onto its hideous, beautiful face. It licks at every drop eagerly, letting out a pained sort of whine when a few land on its cheek, close enough to smell but too far from its lips to reach with its tongue. It must be like torture.

_ Good. _

"Sir, _ please," _ it begs, without a hint of mocking sarcasm or disrespect, its face a mask of honest, earnest need.

Park sneers, looking down at it with disgust.

"Only because you asked nicely," he snaps.

Then he lowers his hand to the creature's mouth.

He tries not to gasp when it licks at his wounded palm, but that devilish tongue dragging over such a sensitive, tender spot has him shuddering.

Thankfully, the vampire isn't too much better off, and it's far too busy moaning as it licks into his palm to notice the kind of sounds its dinner is making.

_ "Mmmmmph," _the beast groans, the vibrations of its mouth against his hand beginning to tickle slightly.

Experimentally, Park shifts his leg again, moves his boot back between the creature’s spread thighs. His foot is on the ground, not pressing on its cock like before, but the moment the beast feels him brush against its thigh, it ruts up against Park's shin with a desperate little cry.

_ Fuck. _

"Look at you," Park sneers. "Rubbing off on my leg like a god damn dog."

The beast just whimpers, grinding up against his boot again as it tongues his palm.

"Worse than a dog. At least dogs can be trained not to bite," he continues, trying not to groan when the creature sucks one of his fingers between its puffy lips, tonguing the little metal sensor where his fingerprint should be.

_ Fuck, why does that feel so good? _

_ You're sick, Park. Sicker than him, even. Why the fuck is your dick getting hard over this? _ he wonders desperately.

_ Because it's wrong, _ says his conscience. _ And you know it is. _

Pushing the guilty thoughts to the back of his head, he pushes a second bloody finger between the monster's lips. Its eyes are squeezed shut, and it trembles a little each time its groin makes contact with Park's leg. A not-insignificant part of him is tempted to push the beast to the ground, bend it over a rock, make it beg for release, fuck it until it’s crying.

But Park doesn't think he could live with the shame, and besides, the poor beast is begging already.

Park presses his shin harder between the beast’s thighs.

"Oh god, _ please," _ it gasps, after pulling its mouth from his fingers with a lewd little pop.

"'Please' _ what, _bloodsucker?" he snaps, voice mocking and sarcastic. "Bet you're wishing you hadn't insisted on those holocuffs now."

The thing sobs, thrusting hard and burying its face in his hand.

"No," he snaps, voice rough and gravelly. "You're going to look me in the eyes while you do this. Let's see if there's any shame left in you."

It whimpers, looking up at him with tears in its eyes when he tugs at its hair again, stuffing two bloody, metal-tipped fingers back into its mouth and pressing down on that forked tongue, groaning when it swallows around his fingers.

"That's what I figured," he sneers, staring into the creature’s impossibly-blue eyes. "No shame at all."

He thrusts his fingers deeper, laughing cruelly when the beast gags. He tries not to think about how good it felt gagging around more than just his fingers earlier.

"Fuck, I bet you'll do this later, too," he murmurs, voice low and rough with lust. "And when you do, you'll think about me, won't you? You'll think about me when you cum, when you fuck one of those Shadow monsters."

He's not sure if he's making a prediction or giving an order, but the vampire nods its head all the same, moans around his fingers as its hips start to stutter.

"I bet you do it while you watch, too," he grits out. "I don't believe for a fucking second you don't watch us every single time. You watch him fucking me, and you wish it was you. And Renee...I'm sure you wish she’d let you touch her like she lets me. You'd watch us, too, if you could. We both know you would."

The vampire's eyes squeeze shut for a moment, cheeks going almost magenta with shame when he lets out a guilty little moan. He's shaking all over now, grunting softly each time his hips make contact with Crypto's boot.

"Shit, I bet you watch me fuck Elliott and wish you were in _ his _ place, getting fucked into my mattress and begging for my cock."

_ "Mnnngh!" _

That seems to have done it, because a moment later, the beast is tensing up, entire body frozen except for its hips, which continue thrusting forward in a sloppy, stuttering rhythm as it whimpers around Park’s fingers and spills into its own pants.

Once it's done, Park yanks his hand from its mouth, which is gaping, gasping and smeared with his blood.

The creature looks like it's going to collapse, and Park doesn't particularly care, but he figures Renee might get pissed off if he leaves her boyfriend tied up in his cave for a week. Bad petsitting etiquette, that.

Digging the little keychain out of one of his pants pockets, Park de-manifests the cuffs before tossing the tiny remote to the ground between the monster's spread knees. Once he's located his shirt, coat, and relative sanity, he crosses the room, stopping just before he walks through the holographic door.

"See you in five days, bloodsucker," he says, knowing damn well Renee told him to come every three. He tells himself it's because he doesn't give a fuck, that he's just doing it to make the creature suffer.

But deep down, he knows the truth: he wants it to be _ desperate _ to get its mouth back on him when he returns. He doesn't care if it hurts. Part of him needs it to.

As he crosses the threshold and turns the corner that will lead him out of the cave, a different part of him can't help but wonder if the vampire is going to keep the recording of their little tryst, or delete it. The optical implant was always recording, and part of what had drawn him to it in the first place was the ability to store every memory, every record of every thing that he ever personally witnessed, so he could go back and scour the details later, see if there was a clue, or some vital information that he missed the first time around.

Well...and because watching certain memories on the AR display was like watching VR porn on Stim. The POV memories that the implant continuously recorded and saved meant he had access to a collection of all the hottest things that had ever happened to him, available right at his fingertips 24/7. You couldn't find better spank bank software in the whole damn Frontier.

Park isn't sure if the vampire's implant works the same way. And even if it does, he's not sure the creature would even want to keep the memory, let alone relive it later.

He knows one thing for sure, though: he certainly will be.  
  
\--  
_  
I miss him so much.  
_  
It’s barely been three days since the day Elliott and Renee were supposed to return from Solace.  
  
_ God, I miss her, too. _  
  
Tae Joon needed to pay Renee’s boyfriend another visit soon. He tried to ignore the fact that he was looking forward to it.  
  
**Hyeon 8:15PM:** Hey. Make sure Elliott goes to his therapy appointment this week, okay? And don’t skip yours either. You guys will get over the weirdness of doing it via holochat eventually. Just...make sure Elliott doesn’t blow his off. I’m a little worried about him.  
**Renee 8:16PM:** Will do. I’m with you -- Evelyn’s not in fantastic shape right now, and neither is Elliott. I’m keeping an eye on him. Sucks I can’t get him out of the house though, you know?  
**Hyeon 8:16PM:** Just be glad you’re not trapped on the dropship. If I have to spend one more minute cooped up in here with Nox I’m gonna lose my mind.  
**Renee 8:17PM:** Better Nox than that robot. Sorry you’re stuck with him, too. Anyway, I meant to ask you -- how’d, uh, dinner go? With...y’know. My friend.  
**Hyeon 8:17PM:** Fine.  
**Renee 8:18PM:** K...well thanks again. Sorry, this little batsitting adventure is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected. Thanks for taking care of him. Maybe while you’re there this week you can undo whatever the fuck you did to the repulsor in that dimension.  
**Hyeon 8:19PM:** I’ll see what I can do.  
**Renee 8:20PM:** Thank you. Seriously. Um, also -- be fucking careful. That dimension is not safe outside of the cave. And stay the fuck away from the cave by Slum Lakes. Shadows aren’t the only thing there that can kill you.  
  
_ Well, I know the first place I’m checking out when I go feed his sorry ass again. _

It’s really not his fault. It’s in his nature. He may be half-synthetic, but he’s still a skinsuit. That damn human curiosity is always his undoing.  
  
Instead of replying to Renee with a promise he knows he can’t keep, he sends a message to Elliott instead.  
**  
** **Hyeon 8:23PM:** I miss you so much, Elliott.

Barely thirty seconds later, his phone vibrates several times as a flood of selfies hits his inbox. Elliott’s grinning from ear to ear, his arm slung around his decoy, who is attempting to hide his face from the camera, peeping at it through his fingers. Renee’s behind the decoy, sticking her tongue out. In the second photo, she’s doing bunny ears behind Elliott’s head as he makes a kissy face at the camera while the shy decoy smiles coyly, finally making eye contact with it. In the last photo, the decoy is between Elliott and Renee, getting smooched on the cheek by both of them at the same time and blushing.  
  
**Hyeon 8:24PM:** You are so beautiful. Both of you. Well, all three of you, technically. ;)  
**Elliott 8:25PM:** Send one back!!!  
  
Tae Joon spends an embarrassing amount of time taking the perfect selfie, and sends back a photo of himself snuggling with his holographic cat.  
  
**Elliott 8:27PM:** You are so goddamn handsome, babe.  
**Elliott 8:27PM:** Also Saja is freakin’ adorable. Tell him Felix says hi!  
**Elliott 8:27PM:** I love you. I miss you so much, sugar. I can’t wait to see you again.  
**Hyeon 8:28PM:** The feeling is mutual, my love :)  
**Elliott 8:28PM:** <3 <3 <3  
**Elliott 8:29PM:** I’m gonna have a little surprise for you tomorrow.  
**Hyeon 8:29PM:** Oh? What is it?  
**Elliott 8:30PM:** Nope! You gotta wait and see!  
  
Park is very, very curious.

\--

The next day, after winning a match by the skin of his teeth -- _ Path should so not be allowed to play on Revenant’s team _ \-- Tae Joon is dragging himself through the doorway to the Legends’ locker room.  
  
No one ever uses the shower there -- not for showering, anyway -- but Park is covered in so much blood and mud, he’d just have to clean it off his own floor if he traipsed to his room to shower there.  
  
Strangely, though, the shower in the locker room is running, and appears to be occupied.  
_  
Hmmm. Wonder if it’s Ajay and Octane again. _

They’d been -- based on the sound of things -- having some serious makeup sex since the argument Elliott and Park has eavesdropped on. Still, Ajay was competitive. This whole showering-in-the-locker-room thing was probably some sort of territorial “Back off, he’s mine!” move on Ajay’s part.  
  
But after a moment, Tae Joon realizes that’s not the case, because he only hears the sound of the footsteps of a person with metal feet. Silva must be alone. There’s no way to get to the Legends’ quarters without cutting through the hall immediately outside the shower itself. Keeping his eyes trained straight ahead, Park makes his way down the hall, passing the shower without incident.

Well, almost without incident.

“Good game out there, skinsuit,” says a voice from within the steam-filled shower room.  
  
Park stops in his tracks, backing up a little bit and looking right into the shower because he can’t not look because he’s curious, and also he’s pretty sure robots don’t take showers.  
  
And there he is, in all his terrifying glory. The Revenant’s red cowl and loincloth lie on a bench attached to the wall, folded neatly side-by-side. The Spectre himself stands nearby, beneath a stream of water, scrubbing down those frightening metal arms with a loofah. He’s covered in suds, and from the pleasant scent in the air, it’s body wash.  
  
Park pinches himself, to be sure he can feel it.  
  
“You keep putting your totem in terrible places,” Park replies after finally finding his voice. “It’s not useful if it’s easy for the enemy to find.”  
  
“Huh,” the robot grunts, lathering up his chestplate.  
  
Tae Joon promised himself he was done with said robot, because Elliott was right -- flirting with Death like he did was fucking dangerous. And because Renee would probably murder him herself if she found out he was fucking around with her boyfriend _ and _ fucking around with a killing machine.  
  
So despite the fact that every single part of his mind, body, and soul is lonely and aching for the presence of another, Park forces himself not to keep talking, and puts one foot in front of the other until those feet are standing safely in his own bedroom.  
  
He can’t resist sending a message, however.  
  
**Private Number 3:10PM:** You’re going to get water damage if you keep that up. Since when do robots shower? Pretty sure that’s a skinsuit thing…  
**Rev 3:10PM:** The medic says if we don’t sanitize everything, all u skinsuits will get sick.   
**Private Number 3:11PM:** And you care about whether said skinsuits live or die because…?  
**Rev 3:11PM:** Cuz if u all get the plague, I don’t get to fucking shoot u anymore, synthskin.  
  
Park laughs.  
  
**Private Number 3:12PM:** Just looking out for you. We are team mates, after all. Would be a shame for all that expensive hardware to get damaged. If you want to sanitize, use 91% isopropyl, it’s safe for electronics. Won’t cause water damage.  
**Rev 3:13PM:** Chill the fuck out. I’m rated IP69, baby.  
**Rev 3:13PM:** ;)  
**Private Number 3:14PM:** K.  
**Rev 3:14PM:** Ha-ha. You know what I mean, skinsuit. I’m waterproof.  
**Rev 3:14PM:** Come by the next time you need a demonstration of exactly how waterproof.  
  
Tae Joon smirks. 

That almost sounds like an invitation.

Unfortunately, there are other monsters that currently need tending to. One of them is Renee’s boyfriend, and he’s going to be fucking hungry.

\--

"Oh come now, don't act so surprised. I know _ exactly _ how you like it, Park. And I'm going to give it to you, as much of it as you can take," the monster murmurs, lips brushing over Park's own lean stomach and feeling sinfully good as they do. 

Tae Joon can't help but gasp when that wicked mouth forges a wet trail up his chest, nor can he help the whimper that escapes him when the creature's hot tongue darts out to swipe over a nipple.

_ "Ah!" _

"So _ sensitive," _ the creature teases, grinning as it grazes Park's collarbones with its fangs. "Funny, you always struck me as more of the stoic type. Then again, you do get _ awfully _ vocal when Elliott's got his hands on you. Or his mouth…"

"Fuck off," Park grits out between clenched teeth.

The vampire laughs.

"'Fuck off'? I don't think that's what you _ really _ want, Tae Joon," it purrs against his synthetic flesh, pausing to drag that devilish tongue up the side of his throat. "I think you want me to fuck _ you." _

It rolls its hips forward for emphasis, letting him feel how _ fucking hard _ it is, cock straining against its trousers.

_ "Ssibal," _ he breathes, face flushing with embarrassment.

_ You're such a fucking whore, Park. Who does something like this? _

"Such an impolite mouth you have, Tae Joon," the monster murmurs, eyes flashing dangerously as he reaches up and thumbs at Park's bottom lip. "Maybe we can find a way to occupy it for the time being."

_ Oh god. Please. _

Park doesn't want to say what he's thinking, because begging him_ self _ to fuck him is a total mindfuck, and an indignity he doesn't think he can survive. 

So instead, he takes the probing digit into his mouth, sucking at it and teasing it with the ball of his tongue ring.

It's the vampire whose mouth is being impolite now.

"What the fuck is--" the vampire pulls its thumb from his mouth, and Park sticks his tongue out for a moment so the monster can see the little metal ring in the middle of it.

It leans closer, gripping his jaw tightly as it inspects his jewelry. 

"Oh, you shouldn't have shown me this," the monster growls. "I was only going to fuck that pretty little ass, but now I'm going to have to fuck this filthy mouth first, I'm afraid."

Park moans.

The vampire takes a seat on the edge of the bed, the same way Park usually does when Elliott is feeding or...sucking him off.

Unbuckling its belt, the beast shoves its pants down a little, freeing its cock. Park isn't sure what he'd expected -- the guy has purple skin and glow-in-the-dark irises for fuck's sake -- but he definitely hadn't expected the sight of his _ own _ dick to make his mouth water.

It was his in size and shape only, as there were some _ very _ stark differences. Like how the vampire's skin was dark purple at the base of its cock, but gradually lightened to the beast's normal lilac shade at the shaft, and then that pretty, pale lilac faded into bright pink at the swollen head, which was dripping pearls of precum and making Park want to fucking _ beg _ the demon to let him suck it.

"On your knees, then," the beast growls.

Park climbs off the bed to crawl between his twin's spread thighs, where he kneels, unable to tear his eyes from the vampire's hand as it strokes that beautiful length and slowly drives him insane.

_ What the fuck? How is his dick so much prettier than mine? _

_ Ugh, why is this so hot? _

"Fuck," Park gasps, licking his lips.

"Funny how you judge me so negatively for my...unique desires. As if you don't have plenty of your own," the vampire taunts. "You're just as much a monster as I am, Tae Joon."

Hearing his name in its mouth -- _ their _ mouth -- makes him shudder. He doesn't argue, though, because the vampire is right. He _ is _ a monster.

So he does what any monster in his current position would do -- he leans forward to lick a hot stripe up the underside of the vampire's cock. It groans when he takes just the head in his mouth, teasing the frenulum with his tongue ring.

_ "Ssibal, _ that's another thing we have in common," the vampire groans, hips jerking that thick cock forward into Park’s mouth.

Park pulls back for a moment, looking up at himself. The vampire grins, showing all of its teeth.

"Talented tongues," the beast says with a wink, slipping that inhuman tongue of his out between his lips for a moment.

Park is so ashamed of himself he can't speak. He can't stop, either. So instead of replying, he leans forward to take the monster into his mouth again, sinking down inch by inch until his lips are stretched around the thick base and the monster's cockhead is squeezed tightly as it's hilted in his throat.

_ "Nnnnghh," _ gasps the beast above him, grabbing a fistful of Park's hair to keep him still while it fucks into his throat. “Gods above…”

The monster's cock -- _ his _ cock, he has to keep reminding himself -- is thick enough that he can't even properly gag. With each thrust of the creature's hips, his throat just ripples around the base of its cock.

_ This is so fucking wrong… _

He's drooling now, tears streaming from each eye as he chokes on his own rigid cock. But he wants it. He _ likes _ it. For reasons he can't quite explain he doesn't want to stop. In fact, he wants to make it _ good, _ wants to see the beast lose control, wants to taste its seed.

"You look so good on your knees," purrs the wretched beast, cock twitching between Crypto's lips.

_ So do you… _

When the vampire thrusts deep into his throat again, he activates his tongue ring, pressing the little vibrating metal ball up against the underside of the vampire's length.

"Fuck!" the creature gasps above him, fingers tightening their grip on his hair._ "Mmmmnngh, _ you little slut. You want it bad, don't you? You want me to cum down this tight little throat, and you want to swallow it all. Isn't that right?"

Park flushes red, nodding as best he can with a dick buried in his throat and whimpering with shame.

_ Please, please… _

His own cock has been aching hard for ages, but he doesn't even care. He just wants to see what the monster looks like when it cums. 

The vampire is leaning forward now, watching Park eagerly suck him off with a look on his face like he's not 100% sure it's really happening.

_“Meomchujima,”_ the creature gasps, fucking into his throat._ “Jebal, meomchujima!”_  
  
Park takes the monster deep again, nose pressing into the creature’s bare stomach as he deep-throats its cock and swallows around it, pressing his tongue ring against the sensitive underside.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
The vampire moans, fingers gripping Park’s hair so tightly it hurts as the cave creature cums with a ragged snarl.  
  
_Um. Why does his jizz taste like this?_  
  
Park is confused, because the giant load he just swallowed tasted like absolutely _ nothing. _Finally releasing the creature’s dick, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. When he looks down at the liquid he just wiped from his lips, he’s surprised to see that the taste isn’t all that’s different.

_ Tasteless jizz. Weird. Genetic engineering is officially awesome. _

\----------

"I don't deserve her, I know," the monster says, shifting its gaze from Park's face to the floor beneath his feet.

_ Aw, don't say that. _

_ Wait, no--I am NOT comforting this idiot. _

"I never deserved my Elliott, either," it adds, brow knotted like it physically hurts to even think about it.

_ Fuck. God dammit. _

Park is torn, because everything the vampire has said about himself--themselves?--all of it is true. He doesn't deserve Renee, and he probably didn't deserve his Elliott. 

But on the other hand, Park doesn't deserve Renee either, and he absolutely doesn't deserve Elliott, now or ever. The thought of losing him -- for good, forever -- instantly makes his eyes start to water. From his allergies, of course, because he's allergic to feelings. Just the thought of Elliott being hurt at all made him want to fucking scream. If the Syndicate ever knew about them, ever figured out how much Elliott meant to him--

_ Fuck! We have to start being more careful. No more kissing in front of people. We have to start keeping a professional distance when we're in public, or in the ring. _

_ I can't lose you… _

He knows that he's been stupid, but he's been drunk on the warm comfort of Elliott's presence, and he's been getting sloppy. 

_ Mystik would lose her mind if she knew half of what you've been up to... _

So he has to do something. Figure out a way to explain it to Elliott that doesn't involve having to tell him he's a murder suspect on the run, and that Elliott will end up a murder _ victim _ if they don't stop being so blatant about it. All it would take is one unseen paparazzi drone catching them connected at the lips, or one reference to it on another Legend's social media, or one of his own broadcast drones -- the Syndicate still uses the ones he designed, even after declaring war on him -- catching the two of them misbehaving in the middle of a match, just like Renee had. Just one photo, one video, one suggestively-worded tabloid article, and they'd know. Even if they didn't know who he really was -- yet -- they'd know who means the most to him in the world, and everything would be ruined, because then they could use that against him, and Elliott would be forever in danger. Renee, too. And _ fuck, losing them… _

...he could almost, maybe, _ sort of _understand why the vampire had bitten Elliott, and why he was so clearly in love with Renee. He'd lost everyone, and had nothing. Crypto himself had made more friends in the last few months than the poor creature had in the last 300 years combined.

_ God, that sucks so much. Fuck… _

For some stupid reason, he puts his hand on the creature's shoulder and says, "Hey, that's not true, you do not get to decide what he deserved. Only he can decide that, and it sounds like he thought you were exactly what he deserved."

"He didn't deserve to die defending a monster!" The creature's voice is starting to crack.

_ God, will you cut this shit out? Everyone we love gets taken from us one way or another, that's just--that's just how it is, living our life. Get used to it or get over it. That's why we don't let anyone get close enough to get hurt. _

_ Or we didn't, at least. Now we let people get way too fucking close because we're both fucking idiots. Shit, we were both better off before either of us touched Elliott. We were alone. Safe. Secure. Now we're attached and there are all these fucking feelings everywhere, and it is making an enormous mess of our life and everyone else's, and we are both fucking idiots, and-- _

He swallows down the tirade that's threatening to force its way out of his mouth, choosing to give the vampire's shoulder a comforting squeeze instead.

"You're not a monster, Tae Joon," Park murmurs softly. 

The vampire lets loose a mirthless, bitter laugh. 

"Not any more than Renee is," Park continues. "You're both the result of experiments run by criminal organizations with highly questionable research methods and zero ethics. It's not your fault they did this to you. How you handled it, yes, that was your fault. Working for the bastards in the first place was your fault, too. But you are...you are _ different _now. Renee sees it, and so do I. It's not just because you're not starving, it's because you're finally letting yourself live like a normal person, in the company of others. In the company of friends. Stop punishing yourself. You're isolated here in this cave, yes. But you don't have to be isolated emotionally. Or... physically." 

The vampire's trying to blink away tears, but it only serves to make them spill over and run down its cheeks. It quickly turns away, and Park realizes it's because the creature is embarrassed, afraid that he'll mock its tears like he's mocked every other part of it. 

There's a dull, guilty ache in Park's chest for some reason. He wonders how hungry the poor creature is, distantly realizing that he still hasn’t fed it. He’s distracted from that thought by another, more interesting one.  
  
_ I wonder if I could get him out of here, disable whatever’s keeping him inside… _

_ Yeah, probably a terrible idea. _

"Hey," Park says softly, in a voice he hopes is somewhat comforting, the one he uses when Elliott's had a nightmare. "Don't cry." 

Reaching out, he gently tilts the creature's chin back towards him. The vampire looks embarrassed, but it lets out a soft, barely-audible sigh when Park wipes a stray tear away with his thumb.

"S-sorry," the creature mumbles, cheeks flushing a vibrant shade of purple.  
  
_ Can you please be less pathetic? Ugh. _

"Don't be sorry, I didn't mean it like--I just--" Park pauses, collects himself. "I meant that it hurts to see you in this much pain. I am...so sorry for the loved ones that have been stolen from you. It isn't fair, I know."

The vampire just closes its eyes, sending another waterfall streaming down its cheeks. Park thumbs away the tears again, and finds himself overcome with the urge to reach up with his free hand and stroke his fingers through that shiny onyx hair.

So he does. The beast gasps and freezes up at his touch, but then he brushes back that unruly streak of silver hair with his synthetic palm and threads his fingers through the rest, gently stroking from front to back, massaging the vampire's scalp with gentle synthetic fingertips. When it realizes he's not going to give it an aggressive yank like he usually does, the miserable creature relaxes a little bit.  
  
_ Ugh. Elliott, how the fuck do you function with like, fifteen of yourself running around everywhere? This is so weird when it’s not you. _

Tears are still sliding silently down the monster's pretty face, but he's letting out contented sighs here and there, so it's maybe helping? Park isn't sure. He's never been particularly good at comforting people, let alone himself. 

Then he thinks about the way Elliott comforts himself, the way he wraps his arms around the sweet, shy decoy when they're both sad or scared or lonely.

The creature leans into his hand, and the first words that come to Park's mind are _ pathetic, desperate, weak. _

But he swallows those words back down, too, because it seems the vampire has finally stopped crying, at least for the moment. It's still just kneeling on the bed, leaning forward into his palm like the feeling of his fingers stroking over the beast's scalp is the best thing it's ever felt. 

Maybe Renee was actually telling the truth when she said she wasn't fucking him, because the look on the vampire's face is one of lonely, touch-starved desperation; a tortured, needy expression that all but screams _ 'I haven't gotten laid in, like, 300 years.' _

_ Nah, probably just bloodlust. And who cares? _

_ Monsters like us don't have feelings anyway. _

For some annoying reason, what actually comes out of his mouth is, "Tae Joon, are you...hungry?" 

A stupid question -- it had to be starving. Park had made sure of it, underfeeding it the last time and waiting two days longer than he should have to return.

"I'm…yes. I am so hungry it hurts," the vampire says softly, looking down at his hands. "When I go too long without feeding, my body starts to exhibit signs of blood withdrawal. Withdrawal has has some...very unpleasant side effects."

Park felt a _ very _ slight pang of guilt, but only because he remembered the shape Elliott had been in after he got bitten -- looking and feeling like hell, like he hadn't slept for days, starving with such intensity it made him dizzy, but still unable to be sated by human food.

"Well, let's get you fed then," Park replies, standing and pulling his shirt over his head, then getting to work on his pants. 

Looking up, he catches the creature staring at him, looking him up and down. The second it notices it's been caught, it averts its eyes and its cheeks turn a bright pinkish-purple.

_ Just like that goddamn decoy, fuck… _

It takes a few moments to get his boots, socks, and pants off, but soon he's almost completely bare, save for a pair of black boxer-briefs. 

When the beast -- who has spent the last few minutes trying to get its complicated vest unbuttoned -- looks up, it actually gasps.

_ What is your deal? I'm just some dude who mutilates himself to implant robot parts, just a guy who is standing here in my underwear, looking as awkward as I feel. I am nothing to write home about, bloodsucker. I'm you, you weirdo. _

The vampire evidently feels differently, because after it’s gotten a look at him, it's still blushing violet when it returns to the task of unbuttoning its vest.

"Here," Park says, striding over to where the vampire is standing near a full-length mirror. "Let me help."

The vampire turns away from the mirror to face Park instead, and they set to work on the two rows of buttons that line the front of the vest. It takes a few moments, and the vampire seems almost terrified to be near him, which is odd, as Park expected the creature might be happy about getting a full, satiating meal after going so long without. 

Then again, after the things he'd done to the poor beast, it was right to fear him. He'd been more of a monster than the fork-tongued demon that was currently struggling to get its vest unbuttoned with trembling fingers.

The vest finally comes off, and the creature murmurs _ "Gamsahabnida." _

_ "Cheon maneh," _ Park replies, wondering why the creature is speaking to him so formally, using honorifics even though they're both the same age -- hell, the same _ person _ \-- and if anything, it's the vampire who is technically the oldest, older than Park by about 300 years. Park has done absolutely nothing to earn its respect, or anyone else’s.  
  
\--- 

  
He’s drained -- literally, mentally, and in multiple ways -- once he returns from the Shadow dimension. He’d planned to fix the repulsor that night, do a little cave exploration down by Slum Lakes, but after the creature had sucked his blood -- and his dick, _ again, fuck I have got to stop letting this happen _ \-- Park found he was simply exhausted.  
  
The very next morning, however, he awoke with a fever, and found that he was also infected with the virus that had been tearing through the Outlands.  
  
He knows it before Ajay’s even gotten the test results. It feels like a leviathan stepped on his chest, like he can barely breathe, even when sitting still. By the next day, he’s developed a dry cough, and has been officially quarantined to his bedroom for the next two weeks, minimum.  
  
His mentor is lightyears away on Gaea, and even more susceptible to the illness. His boyfriend -- and that boyfriend’s best friend -- are also lightyears away, just in a different direction. There is no one to talk to but Jee, and though holochats with Elliott are nice, it’s almost painful to be able to see the man, but not be able to touch him. Unfortunately the holoemitters in mobile devices weren’t capable of running Evelyn’s solid hologram software.  
  
That almost doesn’t matter, though, because he’s so tired, he feels like he barely has the energy for a hug, let alone anything else he might normally want to do to an Elliott-shaped hologram. Right now, he mostly just wants to sleep. And stop fucking coughing.  
  
The loneliness is deepening, though, even though Min has been sending him delicious take-out from the bar, talking to someone as they stand outside your bedroom door doesn’t quite count as human contact. He misses Elliott. He misses Renee. Hell, he misses the people on the dropship, because he’s indefinitely confined to a very tiny part of it.

He even misses the person he absolutely shouldn’t be missing.

  
\--- 

  
Park opens his eyes, but he can immediately tell from the distant, floaty feeling in his head that he’s dreaming. There’s a metallic thunk from the other side of his room. He sits up in bed, covered in a cold, feverish sweat even in his dreams.  
  
_ Fuck coronavirus. Ugh, why does it hurt to move? And breathe. And exist. _  
  
Everyone on the dropship -- every human, at least -- has fallen terribly ill. The only legends to avoid the illness were Path and Revenant, obviously, plus Elliott and Renee, who were still offworld. The dropship was quarantined, and nobody had anywhere else to go until Lifeline gave the okay.  
  
Even Lifeline was ill, however, which meant that the majority of medical care fell to the dropship’s iffy healing software and the two synthetics aboard the ship. Pathfinder, of course, had excellent bedside manner. The Spectre....well, it left something to be desired, to say the least. Thankfully, Park hadn’t encountered him yet, but based on the sounds coming out of Silva’s room the day before, Doctor Deathbot exactly didn’t seem like the kind of medical professional that fixed people. More like the kind that took them apart.  
  
Thankfully, Park doesn’t particularly _ need _ any help, sick or not. He especially doesn’t need help from the rude, egotistical metal monster that has been stalking the hallways of the dropship for the last few weeks. He allowed Pathfinder to administer a fever reducer the day he tested positive for the virus, but he’s been too busy since then to worry about whether he has a fever or not. What matters is why. He should be immune. He’s immune to everything, afterall, and his nanobots have had plenty of time to repopulate his system since the vampire attacked him. They’re programmed to destroy every known biological pathogen, along with parasites, poison, venom, and any other toxicities that might find their way into his bloodstream.  
  
Excepting alcohol, nicotine, and lately...marijuana. 

It’s really not his fault, Elliott’s just a bad influence. Definitely.  
  
But it turns out the reason his nanobots didn’t protect him from this new strain of coronavirus is because it’s _ not _ a known pathogen. Well, it’s known, but it was eradicated completely sometime around the 2030’s. It shouldn’t exist. After a little digital detective work, Tae Joon discovers evidence suggesting the virus leaked out of a Syndicate bioengineering lab somewhere on Gaea, spreading halfway across the Frontier in record time.  
  
Generally, the virus isn’t particularly dangerous to young people, but it can be lethal to the elderly and immunocompromised. But the ease and quickness with which it spreads means entire populations can become infected, all at once, straining local healthcare services _ far _ beyond their limits. That was the true danger. And it meant that everyone on the ship who’d come down with the virus or been exposed to it -- so, everyone organic -- was confined to their rooms, under indefinite quarantine. Alone, for the forseeable future.

Tae Joon is rather taken aback by the intensity with which he craves his lover’s tender touch in his absence, the sight of that handsome face with a crooked grin, the tickle of the trickster’s facial hair against his thigh, followed by the delicious, sharp sting of his fangs. He isn’t sure why it surprises him, now that he’s finally admitted to himself that he’s (totally, utterly, hopelessly) in love with the man. But something about the ache in his chest when Elliott isn’t around shocks him. He wonders when exactly he started letting people get close enough for him to feel pain in their absence.

When did he start letting himself get attached?

There wasn’t enough data yet available on the virus for Park to program his nanobots -- and more importantly, Mystik’s -- to eliminate it. And until that data was recovered by the scientific powers that be, there’d be no instant cure. Instead, he has to do things the hard way. 

He has to_ rest. _  
  
Normally, he finds it difficult to rest. Even in his sleep, his mind works overtime, either sending nightmares after him or dreams that revolve around whatever is stressing him out the most in his waking life. But this week, it’s a different story. This week he wakes up alone every morning, shivering and sweating at the same time. This week he falls asleep the same way - cold, hot, coughing...and alone. This week he’s just as ill as everybody else on the dropship, and just as exhausted. Not even his ever-present paranoia can keep him from drifting into slumber. A feverish, fitful slumber, but slumber nonetheless.  
  
He has a very strange dream. In it, he wakes -- feverish and covered in cold sweat even in his dreams, it seems -- to the sound of his bedroom door opening. That’s how he knows he’s dreaming -- that door is always locked, unless he’s waiting for Elliott. Elliott is on Solace with Wraith, and she’s the only person to ever successfully break into his quarters. Even without the unlocked door, the strange, floaty feeling in his head makes it obvious he’s dreaming. It feels like there’s helium inside his head, like his consciousness has floated up out of his body to observe it from across the room. It’s a dizzying, not-entirely-pleasant feeling.  
  
He sits up when he hears whoever is in his room shut the door, waiting for them to appear around the corner of the little alcove where his bed is situated. When they do, he almost laughs, it’s so absurd.  
  
The Revenant is there, glowering down at him.  
  
“Skinsuit. You will eat this,” the Spectre growls, approaching and placing a bowl of something on his bedside table.  
  
“Uh, o..kay…” Park says, wondering why it’s always so hard to speak correctly in his dreams.  
  
He takes the bowl, peering down at the contents. Some sort of soup. It smells delicious, and he suddenly realizes he’s _ starving. _  
  
“What is it?” he asks, wondering if there’s something hidden beneath the surface of the liquid that might pop out and stab him through the chest.  
  
“Chicken soup,” replies the Spectre, who has wandered closer to the bed, folding his mechanical arms and leaning against the nearest wall. “The MRVN says it makes skinsuits better. You _ will _ eat it, skinsuit. I need you well so I can shoot you again.”  
  
_ Man, fever dreams are so fucking weird. _  
  
“Oh,” Tae Joon says distantly, picking up the spoon. “Um, thank you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Revenant snaps. “Eat your fuckin’ soup, synthskin.”  
  
Park eats his fuckin’ soup. 

It’s delicious, and a part of him wonders if it came out of the food replicator, or if it’s one of Pathfinder’s culinary creations. Park hasn’t exactly been great about keeping himself fed and hydrated. It’s been a very, very long time since he was ill, and he’s been a little lax on the self-care this time around.  
  
The robot laughs when Tae Joon slurps the very last of the liquid straight from the bowl.  
  
“That good, huh?”  
  
Even in his dreams, the Spectre is a snarky bastard.  
  
“Yes,” Park snaps sarcastically. “Food does indeed taste good to skinsuits.”

He leans back against the pillows, eyes falling shut, wondering how he can be this exhausted while sleeping. His eyes snap open a moment later when he hears the Spectre make its way to where he lies on the bed. He flinches when it reaches for his face, but then it stops.  
  
“Open up,” Revenant says, bringing two lethal fingers to Park’s lips.  
  
Apparently his facial expression accurately conveys his thoughts, because the robot laughs again.  
  
“Relax, skinsuit. I’m just taking your temperature.” 

  
\--- 

  
Revenant doesn’t mention that he could just as easily have taken the skinsuit’s temperature by pressing those fingers to his forehead, instead of between his lips.  
  
_ Shit, he’s lucky I’m not bending him over this bed and taking his temperature with my dick. _  
  
For once, Revenant is glad that he himself doesn’t have much in the way of facial expressions, because were he still a skinsuit himself, he would have undoubtedly gasped and bitten his lip as his fingers were enveloped in the soft warmth of the human’s mouth. The skinsuit’s tongue is beyond warm, actually, it’s _ hot. _ Definitely hotter than it was the first time Revenant’s fingers were pressed against it. The heat sensors in his metal fingertips read 102.4F, which is a tad high for a skinsuit. They’re generally supposed to hover around 98.6F. 

This one really _ is _sick.

“You’re burning up, skinsuit,” Revenant growls, distantly wondering why he hasn’t removed his fingers from that soft, wet mouth yet - or, hell, why the skinsuit hasn’t pulled away from them yet.  
  
Because he hasn’t. He just nods and gazes up into the Spectre’s glowing opticals, lazily tonguing those terrifying fingers. When the little metal ball on the middle of the skinsuit’s tongue taps against Revenant’s metal fingertips, the Spectre shudders, finally collecting himself enough to pull them away.  
  
The skinsuit is definitely ill. That fever is a little too high, and the poor thing looks like he’s lost a few pounds recently, his ribs a little more pronounced, face pale and peaked. Revenant watches a drop of sweat roll down over the synthetic skin of his throat, pooling in the hollow just above his clavicle. Somehow, despite its current level of sheer patheticness, the synthskin is smirking, just like he was down on the drop platforms the day that they kissed. Revenant’s hand wraps gently around that pretty throat, but doesn’t squeeze. The human gasps, but before he can protest, Revenant shushes him.  
  
“Shut it, skinsuit. I’m just checking your pulse,” the Spectre growls. “You’ll know when I’m gonna kill you, trust me.”  
  
The synthskin relaxes a little, as does its heart rate.  
  
Rising from the bed, Revenant heads to the bathroom, and does his best not to catch sight of the horror staring back at him from the mirror. He returns to the skinsuit’s bedroom with a cool, wet washcloth. The sick little human has seemingly begun to doze just in the few short moments it took to find said washcloth, and he gasps when it touches his feverish skin. But then he lets out a little sound that’s almost a whine, melting back into the bed and letting his eyes flutter closed with a soft sigh.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” the synthskin breathes after a few moments of enjoying the cool cloth gliding over his overheated skin. 

The robotic killer doesn’t give him an answer because he genuinely doesn’t know.

“That feels _ so good…” _ the sickly little human sighs in Korean. Revenant wonders if the skinsuit knows he can understand him.

The human’s words -- and the dreamy, blissful tone in which they’re spoken -- have Revenant overheating a little bit himself.  
  
_ Who the fuck is this pretty when they’re sick, sweaty and gross? The fuck, man. Why does this one have to smell good all the fucking time? _ _  
_ _  
_It’s not helping that the skinsuit evidently opted to sleep in nothing but his boxers. Once the human's face and throat are clean, the Spectre can’t resist dragging the cool rag over that beautiful, bare chest next. He notices that some of the tattoos adorning the man’s stomach seem to have changed since he last saw his chest bare, some of the tattoos disappearing entirely, others appearing in different spots than before. He's vaguely aware that SmartInk has been a thing for a while, but he's never actually noticed how it differs from regular tattoo ink until now...because he's never seen this much of a skinsuit's skin on enough of a repeat basis to even notice something's changed, but it has. The skinsuit's bicep has a holoemitter inked into it, and there's a strange pattern covering one of his pectoral muscles, almost like a circuit board. 

_ Interesting. _ _  
_ _  
_ The Spectre is dragging the cloth over the skinsuit’s stomach now, trying to ignore how much the sight of those abs makes him wish he had something to lick them with, or some blood to smear across those toned muscles. He’s so focused on trying to ignore it that he doesn’t even notice the effect he’s had on the skinsuit until it whimpers as he wipes the cool cloth across its lower belly, centimeters from the elastic band of its underwear.  
  
When Revenant snaps back to reality, he notices the synthskin’s face has gone from serene to sort of...desperate-looking, and his breathing is a little uneven. Then the Spectre’s gaze drifts lower, stopping at the obvious erection tenting the skinsuit’s boxers, and it’s over. 

His plan had been to drop off the soup and bounce, spend the rest of the day hiding from that stupid MRVN until the next time he’d get to terrorize it in the ring. That plan was now out the window. Everything went out the window the second he put his fingers in that hot, slick mouth. 

_ Fuck! _

Deep down, he knew that this was what he’d really come for. This was what he really wanted. Not the screaming or the crying or the pleas for mercy. No, he’d come for the _ moaning. _ The soft, pleasured sighs of a weak little skinsuit. He wanted to hear it even more than he wanted to kill, at the moment, and that was utterly _ terrifying. _  
  
And yet...a little thrilling, too.  
  
The human whines when the soft, cool cloth is replaced by a hard, cold hand, trailing down its chest, but it doesn’t flinch, or try to get away. Then metal fingers are toying with the hem of its boxer-briefs, dipping cool fingertips just beneath the elastic band and gently dragging them from one hip bone to the other.  
  
The skinsuit, the one with synthetic skin _ \-- what was his real name, again? Tae Joon, or something? -- _ is gripping the bedsheets, chest heaving with each uneven breath, that puffy bottom lip pinched between his teeth, gazing up into the Spectre’s glowing, yellow eyes and looking unbelievably pathetic. It makes Revenant’s cock ache.  
  
“What is it, skinsuit?” purrs the murderous robot, still trailing a single metal claw just beneath the only fabric shielding that pretty skin. “Is there something else you need?”  
  
This one’s a bit of an enigma, and Revenant isn’t sure what to expect. It must be terrifying, being made of goop protected only by soft, yielding flesh -- especially when that flesh is being stroked by a lethal metal finger that could spill the fleshbag’s guts in the most literal sense, with ease.  
  
“Do you want me to leave, little one?” Revenant purrs, eyes glowing with hunger for something other than human screams.

_ Last chance to kick me out. Whatever happens after this is your fault, fleshpuppet. _  
  
There’s a pause, neither of them moving, the robot watching the human’s face as the human gazes down at the metal murder weapon stroking back and forth below his navel. After a moment, he meets the Spectre’s glowing gaze.  
  
“No. Do not go. Please.”  
  
Revenant smirks -- on the inside, at least -- because that last part came out of the human in Korean. His cheeks are flushed, and he quickly averts his gaze, blushing deeper. Revenant leans a little closer, bracing his other hand on the mattress and tugging the hacker’s boxers down just enough to expose a hipbone, beginning to trace lazy, circular patterns over the delicate skin with his mechanical forefinger, relishing the shocked little gasp he earns in return.  
  
“I bet you want me to fuck you,” the Spectre growls, chuckling when he sees the human’s cock twitch at his words.  
  
Park looks terrified, ashamed, and eager all at once. 

_ The perfect combination. _

Under normal circumstances, Revenant would gladly fuck the prettiest skinsuit on the ship until its weak little body all but gave out. That was the problem, though -- if that temperature, raspy voice, and hacking cough were anything to go by, the skinsuit’s body seemed distressingly close to doing just that.  
  
“Well, I’m not gonna,” Revenant snaps, thoroughly enjoying the look of pure desperation his words elicit from the skinsuit. “You’re already overheated, kid. You look like a fuckin’ ghost. That pretty little skinsuit of yours needs to rest before I wreck it again.”  
  
The human makes a noise like he's disappointed, and Revenant tries not to imagine how that tight little body would feel wrapped around his cock again, its insides and outsides even hotter than before.  
  
_ Fuck... _ _  
_ _  
_ _ No. Stop that shit. You’re a machine. Get your shit together, rustbucket. _

“But I might be convinced to,” he clears his throat, hand snaking down between the skinsuit’s thighs and squeezing him through his boxers. “Provide alternate means of assistance…”

Tae Joon gasps out a soft _ “Please,” _ his hips jerking up off the bed just the tiniest bit.  
  
Revenant laughs. He’s barely touched the skinsuit and there he is, whimpering and begging. If it weren’t for his cock, swollen and leaking so much it’s beginning to soak through his underwear, Revenant might think he was begging for his life. That’s usually what they do -- beg for less of the terrifying murder fingers on their skin, not _ more. _ _  
_  
“Please _ what?” _ Revenant snaps, squeezing the skinsuit’s hard-on a little less gently. “Spit it out, skinsuit.”  
  
“Please,” Park gasps again, trembling with anticipation. “Please touch me. I’ll make it up to you when I’m better, you know I will. Fuck, please…”  
  
The robot groans at the memory of the last time the skinsuit had returned a ‘favor.’  
  
“Whatever will get you out of this bed and back in my crosshairs, synthskin,” growls the Revenant, wishing the footage of the human on his knees -- swallowing around the Spectre’s cock, swallowing his _ cum _ \-- would stop playing on a never-ending loop inside his head.  
  
Then he tugs Park’s black boxer-briefs down and wraps a cool, hard hand around the human’s achingly-hot flesh. Tae Joon hisses at the sudden cold sensation, brow knotting, gripping the sheets so tightly that the knuckles not covered in synthetic skin go white. Revenant gives him a few slow, lazy strokes, then releases him and chuckles at the desperate little whine that immediately follows.  
  
“Hold your fuckin' horses, skinsuit,” he growls, pushing his loincloth to the side and willing a little blue liquid to squirt out of his cock and into the palm of his hand.  
  
Coolant, tears, lube, jizz -- whatever the fuck it is, it's delightfully slippery, and when it isn’t coming out of his goddamn eyes, it's very convenient. Revenant can still get his dick to produce it when necessary. It still does that on command, at least. 

_ Now, if I can just teach it to stop popping highly-inconvenient boners at terrible moments and making me want to fuck skinsuits with them, we’ll be in business. _  
  
It also makes the human’s jaw drop, however, which is a definite plus.  
  
_ “Ah! _ Oh fuck, _ mnnngh…” _ the skinsuit moans when he feels the slickness now coating Revenant’s metal palm as it wraps around his aching cock once more.  
  
The man’s head is thrown back, and he’s gasping like he’s been riding the Spectre’s dick, not fucking his hand. And it’s hot, _ fuck, it’s hot, why is everything about this little synthskin so fucking hot? _

It's the fever, of course -- it makes his skin hot to the touch. Very hot. Hotter than usual, for a skinsuit. This one is sick, Revenant knows, but he can't feel too bad for finding that hot skin and the sheen of sweat on it absolutely beautiful. Something about the synthsuit is different today -- his usual defiant, devil-may-care attitude and general snarkiness has been replaced with a weak sort of eager obedience. He's docile, like he's content to lie back, exposed, and give himself over to the Spectre, willing to take whatever the Revenant will give him.

Revenant groans at the change in the pitch of Park’s cries when the metal palm around his cock grips him tighter and runs a metal thumb over his leaking slit.  
  
_ “Ah! _ Please d-don’t stop, p-please--  
  
"I ain’t stopping ‘til you’ve learned what eager little skinsuits get for fucking around with _ monsters,” _ Revenant snarls.  
  
_ “Mnnngh!” _

The things coming out of the human’s mouth aren’t even words, now. They're just desperate, pleading cries. The Spectre has wrapped his other hand around his own cock, stroking them both in rhythm. He can feel Park throbbing in his grip as the human begins to squirm and shudder, thrusting up into his hand.  
  
“Fuck, you don’t even need me to do the work, do you?” Revenant growls, releasing himself in favor of crawling closer, so he can press a kiss to that pretty synthetic throat. “You’re gonna make yourself cum just fucking my hand.”  
  
The skinsuit moans in the affirmative, dick throbbing at Revenant’s words as the human shudders with pleasure. Its cheeks have gone rather red, but it's still thrusting up into his hand despite its embarrassment.  
  
_ “Ah! Ah! _ P-please, fuck, _ please _ let me cum, I can’t--fuck, _ nghhh, _ if you keep doing that I’m going to--” The human’s words are cut off by its own strangled moan as it narrowly manages to keep from cumming. 

_Mmmm, and I didn’t even say he had to ask permission. That’s cute._  
  
Suddenly, the Spectre is struck with a strange desire. One he’s never had before. Not since losing his own skinsuit, anyway. It’s stupid, and will probably horrify the skinsuit, but _fuck it,_ he’s doing it anyway.  
  
“You've been such a good boy, Tae Joon…" the robot purrs, eliciting a broken little whimper from the human when he begins to jerk him off a little faster.  
  
Then Revenant leans down, ghosting his bottom lip along the underside of the human’s engorged cock. Park’s eyes fly open and his jaw actually drops as he watches the killing machine take him into its mouth. It’s cold and hard, Revenant knows, and likely rather unpleasant. But he can’t help it, he _needs_ it, needs to touch him and fuck him and taste him, _god, _and he’s trying to be careful, and at least the human’s cock is still coated in slickness, and the back of Revenant's throat is made of silicone.

_ Hope this feels as good as it looks. ‘Cause fuck, you look good right now, skinsuit. _  
  
Revenant often wonders what his body was designed for, originally. Why create a robot with a functional dick and a soft, silicone throat, but metal lips, no tongue, and nowhere for anyone else’s dick to squeeze into? Oh, and _ murder blades _ for hands.

_ Fuckin’ Hammond bastards. Sick in the head. All of them. _ _  
_ _  
_ The skinsuit is trembling, and he whimpers a little as his cockhead slips past those metal lips, but he _ wails _ when it makes contact with the back of Revenant’s throat.  
  
_ “Ah! _ Oh god, _ mmmnnngh--” _  
  
_ That’s right, baby. And here I was thinkin’ I’d lost my touch. _  
  
Park's hips jerk up off the bed when the Spectre takes him deep.  
  
“Fuck! _ Fuckfuckfuck--” _  
  
_ Yeah, bet you’ve never been sucked off by something that doesn’t have to take breaks to breathe, eh? _  
  
Seemingly realizing this -- or just completely losing the ability to resist -- the skinsuit grips the fabric of Revenant’s red cowl and thrusts up into his throat.  
  
_ “Mnnngh, _ ohgod-- _ ah! _ Fuck, I’m--”  
  
It happens so fast, Revenant actually laughs. Barely three thrusts in and the skinsuit is cumming, coating the back of the Spectre’s soft throat in its seed and crying out shamelessly with each wave of pleasure. Once the spasming has faded, Revenant pulls off, chuckling at the look of utter disbelief on the human’s face as it watches its own cum drip from the robot’s metal lips. The skinsuit collapses back onto the pillows, limp, eyes falling shut as it gasps for breath and curses in Korean.  
  
Revenant heads back to the bathroom, returning with a fresh wet cloth. As much as he wants to clean the human up with his tongue, that will never be an option.  
  
_ At least I can taste him, _ the robot thinks distantly. And he can, he can taste his cum just like he can taste his soft, sweet mouth, like he could taste the human’s blood on their shared cigarette the day they first kissed. The Spectre had wanted to do more than kiss him, then. He’d wanted to shove the man up against the huge screen near the drop platforms and fuck him ‘til he cried, ‘til he came so many times he couldn’t anymore, and just had to lie there, thighs splattered with his own seed, taking whatever the Spectre gave him. The Revenant had wanted to _ ruin _ him that day. That day, he’d wanted to fuck him full, leave that tight little ass gaping and leaking blue cum, leave the skinsuit moaning and leaking tears.  
  
However, today is not that day.  
  
The poor thing has fallen asleep before Revenant has even finished cleaning the cum from its thighs and stomach. Once he’s finished, the murder machine pulls the blanket up over the sick little skinsack’s dozing form, retrieving a cold bottle of water from its mini-fridge and sitting it on the nightstand before he goes. 

For a moment, he just stands there, taking in his latest victim’s endless beauty. 

Then he’s gone, disappearing into a dark trail of black and orange.

\--

  
Revenant phases to his own room through the Void, and instantly wraps a hand -- still slick with the hacker’s warm cum -- around his needy cock.  
  
“Fuck,” he breathes, watching the human’s sticky seed coat his own length with utter fascination.  
  
He can’t hold back the moan that escapes him when he begins to move his hand, remembering how beautiful the synthskin had looked, lying there with his back arched, the elegant column of that gorgeous SythSkyn throat exposed, cock thick and throbbing and aching to be touched. Revenant hasn’t yet cleaned out his mouth, he can still taste the human, and when he thinks about the look on the skinsuit’s pretty face when he deepthroated its cock, Revenant's pushed over the edge with almost no warning.  
  
_ “Nggggh, _ fuck!”  
  
Revenant cums hard enough that it aches, with a cry of the skinsuit’s name on his lips.

...and the taste of his orgasm on them, too.  
  


\---

  
  
When Park wakes up again, it’s to the sound of his phone buzzing on the pillow where Elliott’s head should be.  
  
**Elliott 1:58PM:** Here’s that surprise I was telling you about the other day.  
  
_ Huh? _  
  
“Um,” says the little decoy -- which is, somehow, standing in his room. “Hi.”  
  
_ Oh. I’m dreaming. _  
  
He’s pretty sure the decoys follow Elliott, as he hasn’t seen any -- even on the Boyfriend Boat -- since the man left Talos. But one stands there in his room anyway, and it’s wearing some sort of...costume -- a very revealing white dress with a little red cross on each sleeve. On his head is a little white hat with the same red symbol. 

It’s a nurse outfit, and not the kind you’re likely to actually see in a hospital.  
  
“Daddy said you’d like it,” the decoy murmurs, looking even more shy than usual as it attempts to pull the hem of its dress to a more appropriate length.

“Um, and he told me to give you this. This is real! I mean, um, it’s not a hologram. You can eat it,” the adorable little thing continues, setting a bowl of soup on his bedside table...next to the one the Spectre had left the day before.  
  
_ Um. So that wasn’t a dream...wait, so is this not a dream? _  
  
“Thank you, little one,” Park says, once he’s mostly-recovered from the sight of his gorgeous boyfriend’s gorgeous decoy in that _ obscene _ little dress. “It smells delicious. But there’s something else I’d rather eat right now…”  
  
“Oh!” the precious little thing exclaims, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Then what would you like? If it comes out of a replicator, I can make it!”

_ You are the most adorable AI I have ever met. _  
  
“Oh, no,” Park purrs, sitting up with a predatory grin on his face. “I didn’t mean food.”  
  
The decoy squeaks out another little _ ‘Oh!’ _ when Park leans in, bringing their lips together.  
  
Moments later, it’s straddling his hips, and he can’t resist sliding a hand between its thighs. He needs to know what exactly is happening under that little white skirt.  
  
_ “Mnnngh, _ oh god…” the decoy sighs against his lips when he squeezes its erection.  
  
Something feels strange, though, and Tae Joon can’t help but push the hem of that dress up those tan, toned thighs because he’s pretty sure the fabric covering its dick is made of lace.  
  
“Fuck,” Park breathes, gazing at the black, lacy panties his boyfriend’s hologram is hiding under that sinfully-short skirt.  
  
“Um,” the decoy says, pausing to bite its lip before continuing, like it isn’t sure if it should. “D-do you like it?”  
  
“Oh _ Elliott,” _ Tae Joon groans, mouthing at the decoy’s pretty throat. “I _ love _it. You are so beautiful.”

The shy little hologram makes a tiny noise in the back of its throat, quickly followed by a moan when Park yanks its panties down far enough to free its cock. The poor thing is already hard, and it’s barely been touched. But that’s about to change.  
  
Park licks his palm, then wraps it around the decoy’s aching cock, smearing pre-cum over the head with his thumb.

“Ah! _ Mnnn, _ oh yes, please…”  
  
“What is it, _ nae sarang?” _ Tae Joon growls, unable to resist jerking his hips up a little.  
  
The decoy turns bright red, covering its face with both hands as it continues grinding its shapely little ass against the outline of Park’s quickly-stiffening cock.  
  
_ “Hmm?” _ he asks the shy decoy. “Tell me what you need. Let me give it to you.”  
  
The poor thing moans into its hands, still hiding its pretty face behind them as it grinds down on Park’s cock. After taking a deep breath -- and a moment to collect itself -- the decoy speaks.  
  
“Will you, um…”  
  
“Will I what?” Tae Joon asks, swallowing down the moan that threatens to tear itself from his lips every time that perfect little ass makes contact with his erection.  
  
“F-fuck me,” the decoy finally moans, eyes squeezed shut as it thrusts forward into Park’s hand. “P-please, w-will you--oh! _ Nnngnh…” _  
  
“Oh my love,” Park purrs, voice ragged with the aching hunger of unquenched lust. “I thought you’d never ask.”  
  
The decoy giggles, then squeaks when it’s suddenly flipped on its belly, pinned beneath Tae Joon. Park thrusts his hips, grinding forward against the lace covering the decoy’s rear end and groaning at the friction.  
  
_ “Fuck, _ little one,” he growls. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Or how badly.”  
  
The decoy lets out a happy little sigh, then gasps when its lacy panties are ripped down its thighs, baring its ass to Park’s hungry mouth. He sinks his teeth into one cheek, chuckling at the desperate little cry it earns him in return. An even more desperate cry follows it when he spreads the decoy’s cheeks and squeezes his tongue into its tight little hole, then activates his vibrating tongue ring.  
  
“Ah! _ Mnnnngh, _ oh my god, oh f-f-fuck-- _ oh!” _ the poor thing stutters, trembling under his tongue.  
  
Park finally pulls away after a few more moments of delicious torture, giving that flawless ass a playful little slap. Then he’s pulling the bottle of lube from his pocket and readying said flawless ass for the violent fucking it’s about to endure.  
  
“P-please, oh g-god, Hyeon, _ please!” _  
  
He’s never heard it say his name before -- his fake one, but _ still, ugh _ \-- and he’s not sure why it turns him on, because he’s certainly heard Elliott use it before. But something about the shy decoy is different, distinct from the real Elliott in a way that Park can’t quite explain. Whatever it is, it must be what makes him so desperate to fuck the poor thing when he’s already fucked the real Elliott approximately nine million times already..  
  
Right now, he _ can’t _ fuck the real Elliott. And for some reason, that just makes him all the more determined to make the one in front of him cum. He teases its slick hole with the head of his cock, groaning when the eager little thing ruts back onto it until it slips inside.  
  
“Oh _ fuck…” _ Park gasps.  
_  
_ _ So tight, fuck, fuck, oh my fucking god-- _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Be gentle. Control yourself. _  
  
_ “Nghhh,” _ the decoy whimpers into the pillow it’s clutching, hips wiggling.  
_  
_ _ Fuck, don’t do that… _  
  
He might be gripping its hips a little too hard, but it’s that or fuck the poor thing until it’s screaming, and Park is sure the sweet, shy decoy can’t handle that.  
_  
_ _ This one is delicate. Behave. _

But Park doesn’t want to behave himself. Watching that sweet little ass swallowing his cock inch by inch makes him want to do anything but behave. It makes him want to fucking _ ruin _ it.  
  
_ Stop it, Tae Joon. He doesn’t want it like that, he’s innocent, he-- _

“Daddy _ please!” _ the decoy sobs, squirming and tightening up around Park’s cock so hard it makes him swear. “Please give it to me!”  
  
_ Fuck. Not so innocent after all. _  
  
“Ple-ea-ase?” it whimpers weakly. “Please fuck me, Daddy. I need it, I’ve been bad…”  
  
The last of Tae Joon’s self-control fucking snaps.  
  
The decoy sobs when it’s yanked back onto Park’s cock, but it’s sobbing _ ‘YES!’ _ so he doesn’t stop, he just fucks it harder.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, sweet thing,” Park groans into the hologram’s ear. “I--_fuck!_\--wanted to tie you to this bed and fuck you til you couldn’t walk from the very first moment I saw you -- _nghhh,_ _ssibal…”__  
_  
“R-really?” the decoy asks, almost like he doesn’t believe it.  
  
_“Fuck _yes,” Park groans, burying himself in that perfect heat again. “Fuck, I’ve wanted it for so long. Wanted to make you cry, make you beg, make you cum on my cock until you can’t anymore--shit! Oh _fuck, jagi...”_  
  
The decoy is gasping, crying into its pillow and hiccuping with each ragged breath as it jerks its hips back to meet each merciless thrust.  
  
“T-t-touch me,” it whimpers. _“Nghh, _please!”  
  
“Spit,” Park growls, lifting a hand to the decoy’s mouth.  
  
It does as he commands, and nearly falls apart the second it feels the slickness of its own saliva coating its cock.  
  
_“Oh!_ Oh! F-fuck, I--I’m n-not gonna last, Daddy…”  
  
“That’s okay, little one,” Park murmurs against the gorgeous little hologram’s shoulder. “Just let go. Show me how pretty you look when you cum. Fuck, _jagiya,_ come on, cum for Daddy...”  
  
“Oh my _god!”_  
  
Almost as if on command, the decoy tenses up, breath hitching as that impossibly-tight ass becomes impossibly-tighter. Then it’s wailing, cock twitching in Park’s hand as it spills holographic cum all over his fingers -- and his bed.

_ Fuck yes, you are so perfect, Elliott... _

_ “Mmmnnn…” _ the decoy sighs, head lolling back onto Park’s shoulder as it goes limp in his arms.  
  
Gently lowering it down to the mattress, Park grips its hips with both hands and fucks into it with no mercy, unable to stop the monster inside of him from coming out to play.  
  
“God, I could fuck this perfect little ass until the day I die,” he gasps.  
  
He doesn’t mention the fact that said day will probably be sooner rather than later. 

_ Death by Syndicate, death by murderbot, death by heart attack while fucking a decoy into the next dimension-- _  
  
_ “Mnngh, _ Daddy…” the decoy sighs softly, a little smile playing at its lips as it’s fucked roughly into the bed. “Fill me up, please.”  
  
_ “Ssibal!” _  
  
Tae Joon cums, and it comes on so quickly it takes his breath away. The sweet, shy decoy whimpers as it feels his cock twitching, spilling his hot seed into its hot little ass.  
  
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Park gasps out when he finds his voice again a few moments later.  
  
Elliott’s decoy whimpers again when he pulls out, then makes a soft, content little noise and curls up in the bed. Park kneels there, catching his breath and gazing down at the beautiful man beneath him, whose perfect ass is currently leaking cum. His cum.  
_  
_ _ Mine. All mine. Fuck, he’s so beautiful... _

_ I miss you so much, Elliott. _

_ God, I love you. _ _  
_  
Flopping onto his back, Park pulls the decoy closer and lets it snuggle into his chest, wrapping an arm around it as his other arm reaches for his ecig.  
  
“Thank you, little one,” he sighs after a moment, pressing a kiss to the decoy’s forehead. “I’m pretty sure you cured me.”  
  
The decoy giggles. Park’s phone buzzes.  
  
**Elliott 2:23PM: ** I’m gonna assume the lack of response is due to the fact that you’re currently fucking a decoy’s holographic lil brains out.  
**Hyeon 2:23PM: ** You assume correctly. Well, I mean, I was. Now I’m not. Now I'm recovering from it. Obviously.  
**Hyeon 2:24PM: ** Thank you, Elliott. That was...words fail me.   
**Hyeon 2:24PM: ** I love you so much. And I miss you more than you can possibly imagine.  
**Elliott 2:23PM:** The second I’m allowed to come back there and touch you again, you’re showing me the footage from your optical implant. [ 😈 ](https://www.dictionary.com/e/emoji/smiling-face-with-horns-emoji/)

_ Mmmmm, god...anything you want, jagi. _

_ Anything you fucking want. _

\--

_ I cannot fucking believe it calls them _ ** _both _ ** _ Daddy, _ Revenant thinks, moments before spilling all over himself as he sits there, alone in his bedroom next door. 

It’s not his fault robotic ears can hear so goddamn well. Jerking off about it is better than crying about it, and if he doesn’t do one, he’s going to do the other. 

Not that robots cry, or anything. They don’t. Just in case anyone was wondering.

This one does, sometimes, though, and nearly did just now. Because he’s realized now why hearing them together hurts so much, even though it turns him on.

It hurts because he’s _ jealous. _

And he’s not even jealous the synthskin is fucking the holoskin. _ Of course they’re fucking, look at them. _ No, he’s jealous because he will never know what that feels like again, because no one -- neither organic nor synthetic -- will ever be strong enough to bend him over their bed, and he will never have the required...hardware...for _ getting _ fucked. He remembers it from his skinsuit life -- being restrained, or bitten, or pinned beneath another gorgeous man or woman. He remembers it just enough to miss it.

Just enough for it to hurt.

\---

There’s a knock at the Revenant’s bedroom door.  
  
_ I swear to god if it’s that MRVN with the fucking emojis again, I am going to disassemble it. NO, I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY CHECKERS. EVER. Christ _.

_ “What?” _ he snaps.  
  
There’s no reply, and for a moment, the Spectre thinks he’s successfully scared off whoever it was outside his door.  
  
“May I come in?” comes a soft, pleasant voice from the other side of the door.

It’s the synthskin, evidently freed from his quarantine.  
  
_ The fuck does he want? _  
  
Revenant stalks over to the door, wrenching it open.  
  
“What do you want, skinsuit?”  
  
The human doesn’t reply at first, just looks him over, like he’s inspecting something that might explode at any moment. To be fair, he kind of is. But Revenant hates it, that look. It makes him feel like the skinsuit can see right into his hard drive. 

_ Hell, with that thing implanted in his eyeball, he probably can. _

“Do you have a moment?” the human finally asks, meeting the Spectre’s glowing eye sockets with that annoyingly-inquisitive gaze.

“Fine, whatever,” the robot growls, stomping back to his desk and leaving the door open.  
  
The human steps inside, closing the door behind him quietly.  
  
“You want something, or you just here to stare?” Revenant asks, pretending to be more interested in something on his laptop screen. He hopes it’s convincing.  
  
“I wanted to say thank you,” Park murmurs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of that stupid jacket he's always hiding in.  
  
“You skinsuits and your fuckin’ thank-you’s,” Revenant mutters, rolling his glowing opticals in their sockets. “The fuck you thanking me for? And don’t say for not killing you, because that’s still a definite possibility.”  
  
The human smirks. “No. I wanted to thank you for visiting me while I was ill. Two weeks was a long time to spend alone.”  
  
_ Try three-hundred years alone, skinsuit, _ the robot thinks bitterly.  
  
“Yeah, well, consider me fuckin’ thanked,” the Spectre snaps, still refusing to look up from the screen. 

He can’t. He knows what will happen if he lets himself make eye contact -- the perceptive little shit will _ know. _ He’ll know why he really came to visit him. He’ll know that Revenant _ missed _him. That he made up that stupid excuse to see him because he was lonely, too.

_ And we absolutely cannot have that. _  
  
The skinsuit doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t make a move to leave, either. The robot steals a glance and sees that the skinsuit is looking at the newest addition to his bedroom: an actual bed.  
  
_ Oh god dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the door. _  
  
It was an impulse buy. It was stupid. It was just in case he met a pretty synthetic that wanted to spend the night, because his charging dock didn’t exactly have enough room for two. It had absolutely _ nothing _ to do with the skinsuit. Nothing. Not a thing.  
  
“When did you get a bed?” the human asks with an infuriatingly-smug little smile on his annoyingly-handsome face.  
  
“When did that become any of your fuckin’ business?” the Spectre snaps back a little louder than he means to, forcing himself to look away from the pretty human and back at the laptop he is currently plugged into.  
  
The human doesn’t speak for several long moments. When he finally does, it’s in a tone Revenant hasn’t been spoken to with in nearly three centuries.  
  
“You are so fucking _ rude,” _ the skinsuit says, clenching those weak little skinsuit fists like they could actually do anything about it. “What the hell is your problem?”  
  
The words come out in Korean, but the smart little shit seems to have figured out the Spectre can always understand him, because it’s staring at him like it expects an answer.  
  
“Which problem?” Revenant grunts, finally disconnecting himself from the laptop and rising to his feet. “I’ve got several problems, but the biggest one right now is a skinsuit that doesn’t know when to _ fuck off.” _  
  
He takes a few steps toward the skinsuit, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Surprisingly, this doesn’t seem to intimidate him one bit, because he gets right up in the Spectre’s face and grabs his metal jaw...which the skinsuit has to stand on his toes to even reach in the first place.  
  
“You’re always telling people what to do,” the skinsuit purrs in that gorgeous voice. “But I think I’ve had enough of this mouth. Had enough of listening to it talk, anyway.”  
  
The Spectre is so shocked by the human’s boldness that he nearly takes a step back, but he quickly recovers his sanity.  
  
“Yeah? And just what the _ fuck _ are you gonna do about it, huh?” Revenant growls, leaning close enough that he can see his glowing opticals reflected in the human’s eyes. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought, skinsuit. You’re not gonna do shit.”  
  
The skinsuit narrows his eyes, and then the Revenant is falling. He’s been _ pushed, _ he suddenly realizes -- pushed with enough force that he actually stumbles backwards. He tenses, waiting to feel his metal shell bounce off the wall or the floor or wherever, but it’s a soft landing, and he realizes the skinsuit has pushed him down onto the _ bed. _  
  
“Wha-what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the robot asks, sounding nothing like himself.  
  
“Teaching you some manners,” the human replies, straddling his hips and slipping a synthskinned hand beneath the Revenant’s red cowl, then wrapping it around the robot’s throat. Like that’s going to do anything.  
  
The Spectre could throw the little shit across the room in the blink of an eye, but he doesn’t. He could also overpower him, pin him down by his little synthskin throat and actually be able to keep him there...  
  
He doesn’t do that either, though. He’s kind of curious where exactly the skinsuit thinks this little escapade is going.  
  
The human releases his throat for a moment, but only to shrug off his jacket, then pull off his shirt, and _ oh god dammit, don’t do that, fuck-- _

Unfortunately, the stupid pants stay on.  
  
Revenant feels the various pendants around the human’s throat, they clatter against his chestplate when the skinsuit leans down again, almost close enough to bring their lips together. And as much as he hates admitting it, the Spectre desperately wants him to do exactly that, but he doesn't.  
  
_ Come on, you little tease. Kiss me already. Fuckin’ A. _  
  
_ Shit, I did not just think that. _

_ What in the hell is happening to me? _

The skinsuit doesn’t kiss him, though, just drags that hot little tongue over the robot’s bottom lip. The Revenant manages to keep himself from chasing after the human’s retreating mouth -- he has _ some _ dignity, after all -- but he can’t stop the frustrated groan that escapes him. He also can’t help that his dick is starting to get interested in things, nor stop himself from moaning like a pathetic little skinsuit when the one that is currently in his lap grinds its ass against his cock.  
  
_ God. Fine. Fuck it. You asked for it, you little slut. _  
  
The robot lets his hands glide up the skinsuit’s thighs to wrap around his waist, but with lightning-fast reflexes, it snatches both wrists and pulls them away.  
  
“No,” the terminally-brave little thing growls. “You don’t deserve to touch me.”  
  
_ I know I don’t. _  
  
_ Ugh, whatever. I’ll play your stupid game. _  
  
He lets both arms fall to his sides, but they’re back on the skinsuit half a second later, when it grinds down against his cock again.  
  
_ “Fuck,” _ Revenant groans, yanking the skinsuit’s hips down as his own thrust upwards.  
  
“These hands are going to get you in trouble, old man,” the human purrs in that velvety voice, snatching both of the robot’s metal wrists again, this time pinning them above the Spectre's head.  
  
The Revenant nearly laughs, it’s so absolutely ridiculous. He can’t quite explain why he’s letting those weak little noodle arms pin his own to the mattress, except that it’s kind of funny. Still, he doesn’t move them.  
  
Not until he hears the sound of a hologram manifesting, anyway, and then suddenly he _ can’t _ move them.  
  
_ What the shit--? _  
  
The Spectre looks up at his arms, and discovers he’s been handcuffed to the bed. He gives them a good yank, but to his surprise, the metal links don’t immediately snap.  
  
“What’s the matter, metalmouth,” the human asks, smirking. “You never seen a pair of holocuffs before?”  
  
_ Holy shit. _  
  
“You’re crazy, skinsuit,” the artificial assassin gasps, taking a shaky breath that he doesn’t actually need to breathe.  
  
“Maybe,” Park murmurs, trailing his metal fingertips down the center of the robot’s chestplate.  
  
The robot’s dick is throbbing, but with his wrists bound, he can’t force those fragile little hips down against his own anymore. All he can do is try to thrust up against the human, which is utterly pathetic. He does it anyway.  
  
_ I am _ ** _so_ ** _ wrecking that ass when I figure out how to break these handcuffs… _

_ Also, why the fuck can’t I break these handcuffs? _

_ God, this is hot. _  
  
“Safeword?” the human asks, before letting that pierced tongue follow the path of his fingertips, leaving a trail of wetness down the robot’s metal chest.  
  
The Spectre laughs.  
  
“You’re the one who needs a safeword, you crazy little brat,” the robot groans, trying in vain to get some friction on his dick. “You’re the only one who’s breakable here.”  
  
“Safeword,” the human says again, and this time it’s an order, not a question.  
  
“Oh come on, you’re ruining the good part,” the robot groans, rolling his glowing eyes. “Nothing’s fun if it’s _ safe. _ Ask your buddy with the Stim addiction, I’m sure he agrees with me.”  
  
That little half-synthetic hand is around his throat again, squeezing a bit tighter. Not that it actually _ matters _ how hard it squeezes.  
  
“Safeword, or I leave you right here, just like this.”  
  
The Spectre’s eyes glow brighter. “You wouldn’t _ dare--” _  
  
“I would,” the synthskin purrs, tracing the robot’s bottom lip with his thumb. “And you won’t get to cum.”  
  
_ Yeah, I’m gonna fucking destroy you when I get out of these stupid things. _  
  
_ “Ughhh,” _ the robot groans. “The safeword is--uh...fuck, skinsuit, I don’t know, come on!”  
  
The human says nothing, just pulls away, crossing his arms and staring down at the robot with an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Fine, Jesus!” Revenant snaps. “Blisk. There. That’s your fuckin’ word, you happy?”  
  
“Yes,” the skinsuit replies, smirking. “Very happy.”  
  
Before the Spectre can come up with an appropriately-rude reply, two metal-tipped fingers have been stuffed into his empty mouth, and the skinsuit is grinding that perfect little ass against his aching cock and _ fuck yes, come on, just let me fuck you-- _  
  
“Come the fuck _ on, _ skinsuit,” he gasps without breath when the probing digits slip out of his mouth. “Get on with it already, Jesus Chr-- _ ah!” _  
  
He can’t help but cry out when the skinsuit scoots down enough to wrap his other hand around the Spectre’s cock.  
  
“Always so greedy,” the skinsuit says, and his feigned calmness is so convincing, the robot might have fallen for it...if he couldn’t feel that little skinsuit heart hammering away in the human’s chest. Well, and also if he hadn’t noticed the way its dick strains against the zipper of those stupid fucking pants.  
  
_ How does he hide that much dick in such tiny little pants? Amazing. Skinsuits are so flexible. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Then again, I’m pretty fuckin’ flexible, too... _ _  
_ _  
_ He’s distracted from his thoughts when the little hand wrapped around his cock starts to move.  
  
_ Fuck, finally. _  
  
“So bossy, always ordering humans around, taking whatever you want, _ never _ saying thank you,” Park continues, stroking the Revenant just a little too slowly to be satisfying. “Such awful manners.”  
  
Revenant grunts, thrusting up into that soft, synthetic palm. Immediately, Park’s hand stops moving.  
  
“I’m gonna fuck you up when I get out of these cuffs, you little cocktease,” the robot snaps, finally beginning to lose his patience and tug at his restraints.  
  
“If I ever let you out of them,” the skinsuit replies with a wry grin, leaning further down to drag that hot little mouth over the Revenant’s torso.  
  
_ I am going to KILL you if you don’t fuck me, you little brat, _ the robot thinks, just barely able to keep the words from coming out of his mouth.  
  
“Listen here you little shi-- _ FUCK!” _ the Spectre shouts when the skinsuit takes his length into its hot, slick mouth.  
  
_ Fuck yes! _  
  
The skinsuit grips the killing machine’s metal hips, attempting -- with limited success -- to keep them pinned to the bed as it takes the Simulacrum’s cock deep, so deep its lips and nose are pressed up against his pelvis. The synthskin moans around his girth, then swallows around it, and the Spectre begins to wonder how anything can feel _ so fucking good, shit, oh f-- _ _  
_  
“Fuck,” the robot hisses, hips jerking forward a little. “Yeah, just like that, skinsuit.”  
  
He groans when that skinsuit promptly pulls its lips from his cock, a thin strand of saliva connecting them for a moment before it falls away.  
  
“Come on! Fuck, what the fuck do you want from me?” the Spectre snarls, beginning to pull against the holocuffs.  
  
“I want you to say my name,” the human replies, his expression darkening into something a little more sinister than before. “And I want you to say ‘please.’”  
  
_ Oh for fuck’s sake. It’s like he _ ** _wants_ ** _ to be murdered. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, kid. _  
  
“Are you serious, skinsuit?” Revenant snaps before he can stop himself.  
  
“I’m very serious,” Park murmurs, tracing the Spectre’s metal lips again. “But perhaps I shouldn’t bother. Perhaps I’ll just take care of myself, and only let you watch.”  
  
“Fuckin’--urgh, _ fine! _ Will you PLEASE fuckin’ fuck me already, Tae Joon, you little _ shit? _ There, that good enough?”  
  
_ Fuck, please let it be good enough. I need you to touch me, baby. Come onnnnn… _  
  
“Close enough,” Park says, smirking.

  
\--

“Please, fuck! P-please let me cum, oh my god--”  
  
Tae Joon grins. It took some time, but he knew he’d get a genuine “Please!”

Once he’s capable of standing again, Park takes his leave, though he really doesn’t want to. He’d much rather stay in the cold metal arms of the man he’s slowly falling for, but there are other monsters currently requiring his attention.

**Renee 1:00PM: ** Hey, please tell me you fixed...unfixed the Repulsor for Tae Joon. I just realized you probably haven’t been able to feed him since you’ve been sick...you better be taking good care of him, dude. And my phase-tech. If there’s a scratch on either of them when I get back, you are dead (assuming the germpocalypse and/or killing machine hasn’t already finished you off).  
**Renee 1:14PM:** Um, speaking of scratches -- sorry about the scar on Elliott’s chest. It’s teeny-tiny, you can barely see it. I left the dermal regenerator with you! I didn’t know we’d be gone this long. Anyway, it was his fault. Mostly.  
**Renee 1:15PM:** Also please don’t freak out when you see me again. I’m kind of covered in bite marks. Also your boyfriend’s fault.  
**Renee 1:16PM: **Somebody had to feed him!

_ Yeeeeeeah. Oops. _  
  
He’d kind of forgotten about the other version of himself that was trapped in a cave and undoubtedly very pissed and _ very _ hungry after two weeks with no food of any kind.  
  
_ Shit. _  
  
Instead of texting back, Park leaves her on ‘read.’ Better to get the actual feeding part over with first.  
  
_ Ugh, I need another charge rifle. Or, like, a gold Mozambique. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Hahahaha, yeah right. What a joke. _  
  
He’s hopeful that if he just gets the dinner situation out of the way first, the vampire will kill him, saving him from facing Renee’s wrath. If he’s lucky.

Tae Joon is rarely that lucky.

He’s also scared shitless, and procrastinating.  
  
_ Maybe I’ll hit up Repulsor first. Then hopefully he’ll have encountered a flyer before I get there, and perhaps he won’t be compelled to rip out my throat again. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ If I’m lucky. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jee, if this goes sideways, you head back through the portal and alert Path and...ugh, get Nox too, I guess. And maybe EMP Ajay so she doesn’t murder me after she saves my life again. _

Using Renee’s phase-tech is amazing. It’s terrifying. But like most terrifying things, it’s also fascinating, if a little uncomfortable. Entering the Void feels like being submerged in freezing water.

When he steps out of the portal into the Shadow dimension, Tae Joon is met with a warm breeze and a pleasant floral scent. It seems spring has sprung in the weeks since he last visited, and every tree in the canyon has burst into bloom. Petals flutter to the ground with each gentle breeze that passes through.  
  
Cherry blossoms. But they’re purple. And, evidently, night-blooming.

_ Genetic engineering is so cool. Too bad you can do so much evil shit with it. _

After disconnecting the Repulsor tower’s speaker system and retrieving the laptop he’d left plugged into it, Park decides to procrastinate a little further, by doing something Renee explicitly told him not to do. He visits the cave.  
  
The one by Slum Lakes.

He is curious.  
  
It looks the same as the one on Solace in his own dimension, as far as he can tell. Except for the purple blooms and the whole eternal darkness thing. And the glowing flyers and leviathans, which Park can see are now returning to the island. There are candles lit within the buildings inside of the cave itself, which is a bit strange, asall the other buildings on the island are dark.

“Hello?” Tae Joon calls into the cave, feeling a little silly. He makes sure to stand just outside the cave’s entrance, just in case.

_ Ugh, is the hand-slicing thing a requirement for social interaction here, or what? _

He sighs, pulling out his data knife and wincing when it breaks the skin on his hand. He waits.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He’s about to leave when something catches his eye on the ground. The moonlight is reflecting off something small and shiny in the grass beneath his feet. Crouching, he plucks the twinkling object from where it lies, holding it up to the moonlight.  
  
It’s a tiny silver charm, shaped like the head of a wolf.  
  
_ Huh. Weird. _  
  
Something stirs in a nearby bush outside the cave, but he doesn’t even get a chance to look before it’s on top of him, snarling down into his face.  
  
It’s half man, half dinosaur, and all monster.  
  
It’s humanoid, but all of its skin is covered in thick grey scales, and its teeth are even more fearsome than the vampire’s fangs. It’s _ huge, _ impossibly huge, so huge its entire hand wraps around Park’s waist. One arm is made of metal, or covered in it, or something, while the other has claws sprouting from its fingertips. It’s pinned him to the ground just as easily as the vampire, though, and it’s drooling as it sniffs him, then bends its head to lick the synthetic skin covering Tae Joon’s throat. It’s as big a building, but there is something so _ human _ about it. There’s hair on its head, he notices, and a line of grey streaks through the brown. When it pulls back to roar at the moon, Park notices a scar over one of its eyes. It’s not a pretty scar, not like Elliott’s. Like the monster’s hideous snout itself, the scar is ugly. 

Then it dawns on him  
  
_ Holy fuck. Is this...Forge? _

Park struggles, but it’s useless. The beast is ten times his size and easily just as strong. It gnashes those frightening teeth, and just when he’s sure this is the end, a bright blue line streaks through the air, centering on its chest. There’s a sonic boom, like the sound of a charge rifle, but instead of burning a hole through the beast, the blue energy freezes it. It’s frozen in its tracks in a matter of moments, and the air is suddenly so cold that Park can now see his breath when he exhales.  
  
Despite the cold, the smell of burning leather fills the air as the beast howls, releasing Park as it freezes solid. A moment later, something else sails through the air, something with a reddish sort of glow, and lodges itself in the center of the monster’s big, stupid face, cleaving it in two with a sickening crack. The beast shatters into a thousand pieces.  
  
The object lands on the ground in front of Tae Joon, and he’s surprised to discover that he’s familiar with the glowing, bloodsoaked weapon. It’s an axe.  
  
A raven lands on the nearest night-blooming cherry blossom tree, squawking excitedly, then taking flight from the branch and gliding over to a figure in the distance. It lands on his mysterious savior’s forearm, and Park gasps.  
  
_ “Bloodhound?” _  
  
It is, but it isn’t. The person approaching him has a familiar silhouette, but upon closer inspection, every part of them is unfamiliar. They’re clad in some sort of red and black armor, giving them an almost demonic-looking appearance. They’re also aiming a frozen charge rifle right at Park’s face.  
  
“State your business, young one,” the person growls in Bloodhound’s voice. “You trespass upon sacred hunting grounds.”  
  
_ Shit. _

As he’s trying to think of a carefully-worded answer (preferably one that will save his life), Park feels something wet land on his cheek. He wipes it away with his hand. It’s blood.

But it’s not coming from Tae Joon, nor the mysterious hunter, nor the shattered carcass of the frightening beast that was just slain.  
  
It’s coming from the _ sky. _  
  
Another drop of crimson lands on the back of his hand, then the top of his head.  
  
Lightning streaks across the sky, followed shortly by an earth-shaking thunderclap.

Park still hasn’t said anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, staring in disbelief as the purple petals littering the ground become stained with red.  
  
The hunter sighs, lowering their strange, icy weapon.

“What is that?” Tae Joon asks, motioning at the gun.  
  
He doesn’t know what the hell else to say. _‘Thank you’_ would probably be a good start, but his thoughts-to-words program isn’t working so well right now, mainly because it’s fucking raining _ blood. _

“Coolant rifle,” Bloodhound replies. “A weapon of my own making.”  
  
Park sort of just...nods.  
  
The hunter steps closer, extending a hand.  
  
“Come,” they say, pulling him up to his feet. “We will speak somewhere safe. Electrical storms are dangerous.”

They’re right, of course. Electrical storms _are_ dangerous.  
  
But they’re not the only dangerous thing in this dimension.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? "Bitch WTF"-ness? Lemme hear it, skinsuits. Drop that shit in the comments and tell us how awesome my murder memoirs are. While you're at it, I guess [throw some spare change](http://www.ko-fi.com/beautybot) at the pathetic little skinsuit writing this clusterfuck, and go pester her on [Tumblr](http://www.holosuit-hacker.tumblr.com) and tell her to HURRY THE FUCK UP on this next chapter, dammit!
> 
> Anyway, your fleshpuppet author wants to know what you think. Love it? Hate it? Repulsed by Caustic and Wattson? Well you shouldn't be, skinsuit. There are far more repulsive things than an age gap relationship lurking in the darkness...I'd be more worried about what's in that cave, if I were you. Which, thankfully, I am not. Also, if you think a 20 year age gap is disgusting, wait 'til I tell you about the 30-year-old man fucking the 300-year-old ghostbot. Age is just a number, and as long as that number is 18 years or older for both parties, and both parties consent, bang whoever you want. Fuckin' skinsuits. So uptight. It's a BLOODSPORT. People fuck, people bleed, people die. Welcome to life, skinsuit. Anyway, I'll let your _very_ annoying author take over from here.
> 
> \----
> 
> Hey, what'd you think? I was super-pumped about the Bloodhound lore we got yesterday -- the scene with them and Forge in the Shadowverse was already written before the cinematic even released. I tweaked it a little bit after watching 'The Old Ways' but I didn't have to change much. 
> 
> Also, I just want to thank each and every one of you for your support, and for reading. We surpassed "novel-length" several chapters ago, and I continue to be amazed that any of you are still reading this porn-filled disaster. Please leave feedback in the comments, as I'm quite eager to hear what you guys think about some of the developments in this chapter and the previous two. How bout dat Birdperson lore drop we got yesterday? Also, how y'all doin'? Y'all doin' okay? Take care of yourselves, my dear readers. These are strange times indeed. Nox told me to tell you guys "Keep Calm and Spray It With 91% Isopropyl" but I don't think that has quite the same ring to it as "Keep Calm and Carry On, and Wash Your Fucking Hands, Skinsuit!" In other news, our fanged friend in the cave seems quite pleased that the 'Dracula sneeze' is coming back into fashion.
> 
> NEXT TIME, on _Memoirs of a Murderbot:_ Crypto gets a history lesson from his new friend in the Shadow dimension, then finally feeds Renee's boyfriend, and gets to know himself a little better in the process. Meanwhile Renee and Elliott get to know each other _very_ well while quarantined together on Solace. Elliott makes a rather shocking discovery before finally reuniting with his boyfriend on the dropship. Revenant runs from the ghost of his past, and it gives chase. 
> 
> Scare ya later, skinsuits.


End file.
